


Resilience

by Bearslayer



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: A bit of praise kink and a bit of self indulgence, AKA I changed the entire timeline to suit my story and feelings, Age Difference, Anal Sex, And he's going to get it, Angst, Bit of flowery smut, Blowjobs, Credence deserved better, Credence is 18, Eventual Smut, Fate and junk, Fix-It, Fluff, Handy Js and bathtime fun, Loving Sex, M/M, Major canon divergence, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Percival is 40ish, Percival is a softy, Rimming, Timeline Fuckery, and other such wonders, because the canon can eat a dick, doubts, happy endings, mentions of child abuse, none of this has been beta'd so I apologize for any fuckery or mistakes, original Percival graves - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9385859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearslayer/pseuds/Bearslayer
Summary: Percival initially regretted the promise he had made to Tina to check up on the Barebone boy, but when information is revealed about Credence implying magical heritage, it pushes forward a series of events that change both of their lives forever.





	1. Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!  
> In this fic I'm taking a whole heaping boatload of liberties with a great many things (mainly the timeline) in order to make it fit my vision. I'm trying to stay as true to the world lore as I can, but certain things will be tweaked. This takes place before Grindelwald starts to pose as Graves, but in the same year that the Obscurus manifests in Credence. I've also added a lot (and subtracted here and there) to/from certain backstories that you'll have to read to find out about. :D
> 
> I will be adding a chapter each day at 10PM eastern until this is completed. Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you enjoy this, please leave comments! They're my favorite.

_The heat the boy put off was nearly unbearable, cheeks flushed with scorching warmth. Pretty as a picture he lay before Graves, long legs spread and chest heaving, beads of sweat standing dormant in the shallow valleys between his ribs. The desire in his expression was almost animal, intense and focused. Percival's hand had come to rest on Credence's cheek; he was trembling with potential energy. As the older man drew his hand down his body, over neck and chest, down hip and thigh, the boy's body arched into his digits. It was almost unreal to watch the normally demure, submissive youth curve himself with such grace, almost serpentine in motion._

_Blistering heat awaited him there at Credence's center, when leg was lifted and virgin pink revealed. Graves was entranced by it, and when he slid a finger inside to test the youth's waters he found it nearly burned. Percival was only more intrigued, more aroused, adding another a half moment later. Credence made no noise save for heavy breaths, eyes closed and fingers clinging to rumpled bedsheets. In his lust hazed mind Percival imagined that this passion would consume them both, burnt to a cinder wrapped up in one anothers limbs._

_It was an end he would welcome gladly if it meant an eternity buried inside of Credence._

_“Please, Mister Graves... Fuck me!” Credence's voice was a desperate mewl._

_Graves was then a man possessed with a singular purpose; who was he to deny such a request?_

_In an instant he complied, and within that instant there was an explosion._

_Hooded eyes burst open, turned milky white. Suddenly Graves was enveloped on all sides by a crushing, choking darkness. He could not breath, could not move, held tight by ethereal limbs. Credence had transformed into something different, something terrifying and wondrous. And Percival would meet his end that way, clinging to the wispy vestiges of the young man he loved._

//

Percival awoke with a curse, sitting bolt upright. Slapping himself in the cheek lightly and sighing, he then lifted the covers, frowning deeply at the mess he found there. This was the third time in a month he had had such a dream, and though he was no oneiromancer, Graves was sure it meant something. Likely that he had some sort of deep seated issue that he would continue to ignore...

Taking up his wand, he cast a cleaning charm to remove the sticky mess inside his pajama pants. Why did the dreams center around the Barebone boy? Why someone so young, so vulnerable? Was he some sort of covert pervert with a fetish for the barely legal sons of hate-mongering evangelists? The youth was only a little past 18 and lived a miserable life. This subconscious fixation was irritating to Graves, particularly due to the fact that he was supposed to meet with Credence later that afternoon. And what was that business with the explosion and the suffocating darkness?

If only he hadn't made that damned promise to Porpentina. She had begged before being stripped of her title as Auror that he check in on the boy now and then because she was forbidden to be near them. He had done so a few times, but had kept it on the sly, speaking with him briefly about his pamphlets one day and attending a church service another time to speak with him after. Today he planned to meet with the young man again while he passed out his anti-witch propaganda for that wretch of a mother.

Though it would be difficult to look him in the eyes after that dream, he realized that there was little possibility of Credence even attempting eye contact. He was always staring at the floor, or his shoes, hunched so that he seemed less threatening. Years of physical and mental torment had shaped the boy's mannerisms, molding him into something small and piteous. He knew that Tina's intentions towards Credence had come from a place of goodness, that she felt some sort of mothering instinct there... which was the only reason he had agreed to see him. He had a weak spot for the fussy woman despite her insistence to skirt regulations. No-Maj business was none of his concern unless it affected magical citizens directly, though he helped that he found Mary Lou's behavior abhorrent.

But as long as he met with the Barebone boy outside of working hours, did it matter? He wasn't in some sort of lurid relationship with him (regardless of any childish wet dreams), nor was he interfering with him in any way. Excessive fraternization with No-Majs was illegal, of course, thanks to Rappaport's Law, but interaction with No-Majs were necessary at times. That, and the boy did interest him for reasons he couldn't quite put to words. He sincerely hoped that his exceptionally vivid dreams weren't prophetic in some way and just a product of an overstimulated imagination. He decided to blame it on his penchant for eating sweets too close to bed time.

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Percival left the bed and apparated lazily to the bathroom to ready himself for the day.

 

 


	2. Resolutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival meets with Credence.

“Done for the day, Mista Graves?” He heard the distinct, gentle voice of Queenie Goldstein, the last person he hoped to encounter. She was strictly forbidden from poking around in his head, but Graves still locked his mind down as well as he could. She was a particularly accomplished legilimens; why she was relegated to making coffee and doing menial desk work was beyond his understanding.

“Yes, Queenie. Have a good night.” He tipped his head her way, trying to dismiss her quickly; she clasped her hands behind her back and tilted up on her feet for a moment.

“I will, Mista Graves. But – can I ask you something before you go?” She gave a little smile. He hoped it wasn't some date offer in the back of his mind. It would be silly; his disinterest in the fairer sex was well known.

“Of course, but I am in a hurry.” He tried to keep the bite from his voice. She was a lovely woman, but he liked to keep to his schedule.

“If you're going to see him, can you tell Tina how he's doing tomorrow? She still worries over him.” She asked, voice as gentle as a summer breeze. His brows furrowed.

“See who, Miss Goldstein?” He asked, dubious.

“You know who, Mista Graves. I promise I wasn't poking around where I shouldn't be – 'cept with Tina, 'cause we don't keep secrets. I know she isn't supposed to be around them but I was hoping you could just let her know if he's doing okay.” She offered a warm smile.

“I... I'll see what I can do, Queenie. See you tomorrow.” Percival mumbled as he moved away, retreating from the woman.

“See you then, sir!” She called, cheerful once again.

//

It was easy enough to locate the Barebone clan; it was supper time, and all one really needed to do was find the gaggle of scampering orphans looking for a hot meal on Pike Street. The Scourers often padded their hatred with acts of charity. Percival did not enter the residence, instead waiting outside. He knew that Credence would be out until it got dark out handing out those damnable pamphlets. How soul crushing it must be for the young man, to be forced to hand things to unwilling strangers day in and out, in all conditions, and to be beaten over any petty offense. Percival felt his hands flexing and clenching in anger the longer he considered it.

He almost missed the meek boy exiting the almshouse because he was so engrossed with his thoughts. Quickly ridding himself of the less-than-gentle imaginings towards Mary Lou Barebone, Percival reached out to touch his shoulder.

“Credence.” He said softly. The reaction Credence gave reignited the anger in Graves. He cowered instantly, arms held close to his body. Making himself as small as he could while still upright.

“Credence, I'm sorry – I didn't mean to startle you.” Percival mentally berated himself as he spoke, frowning at the fear in his expression.

“Oh, it's alright Mister Graves... It isn't hard to do. You didn't mean to.” Credence didn't look him in the eyes, but did turn to his direction.

“I didn't, no. Care to talk for a while?” Percival offered lamely, wishing the boy would look him in the eye.

“I shouldn't, Sir... I have to finish my chores. I have too many leaflets to hand out.” Credence declined gently. Percival came prepared for the gentle refusal.

“Would you like for me to hand them out at my job? Many people come through every day and solicitors aren't allowed, so you wouldn't reach them otherwise.” He offered. Credence glanced up at him through his lashes.

“I couldn't ask you to do that, Mister Graves... I don't even know where you work.” Credence bit his lip for a brief second, holding the papers in both hands.

“You aren't asking me, Credence. I'm offering. And also, I work at the National Bank... That's where I first met you, remember?” Percival gave a chuckle, offering out a hand. It was a lie, but nothing that he could imagine the boy ever checking up on.

“Oh – silly me. I should have figured that... you dress so well, I should have known.” Credence mumbled, looking at his hand and then his own. “You won't get into trouble for bringing them in, will you?”

“Of course not. I'm the day manager, no one will bat an eye at what I do. Come along, walk with me, won't you?” Percival gently reached out to take the leaflets, and met no resistance. He stuffed them into his jacket. “Just for a little while.”

“A-alright... so long as you promise you'll bring them with you tomorrow. I guess it wouldn't hurt to talk for a while.” Credence did something very faint then, something that Percival hadn't seen until that point.

He gave a little smile. The slightest curling at the corners of his lips, the smallest indication of a spirit not yet completely broken. It was beautiful. Graves tore his eyes away, returning the smile a bit, heart pumping a little too fast. The desire to tilt the young man's chin up to get a better look at him floated somewhere beneath the surface.

“Of course.” Graves promised softly; he would put the leaflets somewhere so that he wasn't completely lying.

“Thank you, Mister Graves. W-what did you want to speak with me about?” Credence stammered a little as he spoke, following after Graves as he began to walk.

// _Shit_.// Percival thought, because all thoughts had fled his mind. He fumbled internally for a moment.

“Nothing particular, Credence. Just checking in on you as a friend, is all.” Percival felt like an idiot the second it left his lips. As a friend? He had been subjected to a subconscious bombardment of inappropriate and mysterious images about the young man not ten hours prior, and now he was going on about being his friend? He maintained his cool exterior, however, and Credence seemed none the wiser. One thing was certain; Credence's manners and way of speaking made it clear that the dream was just a dream... He couldn't imagine the youth uttering a swear word.

“You... you think of me as a friend?” The boy's eyes went a little wide in a way that splintered Graves' heart into pieces. He supposed it was hard to make friends in the world he lived in, filled with religious indoctrination and violence.

“Of course, Credence. We all need people to call friends... someone to trust and confide in.” Percival managed a smile.

“I... thank you for that, Sir. You're very kind – I don't really have friends. I have the kids, and my sister, but... I don't know. It's...” Credence seemed to be struggling with his words, likely unused to casual conversation.

“Lonely?” Graves offered.

“A little, yes.” Credence watched his feet as he walked, hands clasped together at his torso.

“I would imagine so. I doubt your mother makes it easy on you.” He pried as gently as he could. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to mention that wretched woman. Perhaps it was out of a need to hear it from the source, rather than second hand accounts from an uptight former auror. Perhaps he wanted justification for his growing closeness to the young man. Maybe even a bit from both columns.

“M-ma does what she can to keep the common folk safe... it's hard when there are witches all around.” Credence stumbled on his words again, nerves reigniting. The mere mention of his mother seemed to unbalance him.

“She believes that rather passionately, doesn't she? How can she be so sure there are witches about?” Percival asked.

“She knows... She does. M-my... real mother was one,” He said it softly, sadly, “Though I don't really remember anything about her. Ma has told me enough.”

The admission crackled through Percival like an electric current. Credence was not her trueborn son, and his biological mother had been a witch? If that was true, the boy was either magical or a squib – either way, he would fall under MACUSA jurisdiction as a magical citizen. Did Tina not find that out during her inquiry? If it could be proven that there was any trace of magical blood in him, Credence had a rightful place in the wizarding world, something he wouldn't be entitled to with nothing but No-Majs in his heritage. Percival's mind was swimming in a way that was uncharacteristic; he was known for his level head and ability to handle stress. It went with his position at MACUSA. The young man had clearly gotten under his skin, though, and now his motivations were even less clear than when he had woken up that morning.

“Mister Graves? Are you okay?” Credence's voice was laced with worry as he looked to him. “I didn't mean to bring up personal things.”

“Credence, you needn't apologize so often – I was just thinking, that's all. How does your mother know your birth mother was a witch?” Percival asked, in part to distract himself.

“She's never told me many details, Sir. All she tells me is that she was a bad woman, and...” Credence didn't seem convinced of his own words, trailing off sadly.

“Do you remember her at all, Credence?” Graves asked, gently.

“Only a little. I was about two years old when she died...” The youth frowned, bringing a hand up to rub at the closely shaved back of his head.

“Do you remember if she was a witch?” Percival leaned against the wall of a building they were near, watching the expression of the sad boy.

“I don't remember anything more about her. Not even what she looked like. I only know that I'm not Ma's real son because she reminds me sometimes... all I can really remember is coming to the house one day, and that I cried a lot... that Chastity kept telling me to shut up because mama didn't want to hear it, and she made me take a cold bath because she said I smelled like soot..” Credence's brows furrowed at the memory.

“Credence... How about we go sit down somewhere. Maybe the park? I'd like to hear more about you.” He offered.

“Why are you so curious about me, Mister Graves?” Credence glanced up again, once more through his lashes.

“Does one need a reason to make friends?” Percival deflected lamely.

“No... I just don't know why you would want to be my friend. I don't think we have anything in common... The last person outside of my family to even want to talk to me was...” He trailed off.

“If it was a bad experience, you don't need to talk about it. Or if you're uncomfortable talking in the open like this, my offer to go sit down somewhere still stands. Anything you want, my boy.” He offered, the endearment at the end flowing naturally from his lips.

“Here is fine. No one is paying us any mind.... I don't know why I feel so comfortable telling you these things. I think... I think you remind me of Miss Tina.” Credence mumbled, feet shuffling.

Percival was sure that his expression gave away every bit of his bewilderment and surprise. It was a good thing Credence couldn't seem to bring himself to look at him.

“... Miss Tina?” He asked, carefully. Tina wasn't an uncommon name, perhaps he meant someone else.

“She used to come around all the time... She hated mama.” His expression was difficult to read as he spoke, leaning on the building and staring at his shoes, “Talked about how she wanted to... to help me. Because I was different, and she didn't like how mama punishes me.”

“What happened to Miss Tina?” He coaxed once Credence trailed off.

“She stopped coming around the day she attacked mama when she saw her hitting me.” He mumbled it mechanically.

So it wasn't a different Tina. Had the obliviators missed Credence somehow? No, that was impossible. They have had to obliviate so many before, and this was an isolated incident with few witnesses. There was no way they could have missed him, and if they had, Percival would have to insist on revamping the hiring process... It made no sense. How could this young man have avoided it? Was he obliviated and then, through some trauma, forced to remember again? He had heard that the memory charm could be broken through torture, when the torturer did so with the charms in mind... But there was no way Mary Lou could have known, and no one else seemed to hate the boy like she did.

“Mister Graves?” Credence murmured.

“I'm sorry – what do you remember about that day, Credence?” He continued to coax.

“It was just... a normal day. I was out all morning handing out leaflets, and during lunch I accidentally spilled a few bowls of soup. Mama was... not happy about that. She brought me upstairs after all of the children had left, and I gave her my belt so that she could punish me for my clumsiness. S-she struck me with the side that has the belt buckle rather then the length of the belt. She only does that when she's really angry – it... it hurt so badly t-that... t-that I f-fell down, a-a-” The youth began to slide down the wall, his stutter becoming more pronounced as he did, the memory triggering him to curl his body defensively. He whimpered gently, and once again, Percival fell to pieces.

“Credence... You don't have to say anything more. I'm so sorry.” He whispered, moving closer.

Ignoring his instincts to bother the youth no further and to obliviate him of their meeting, Graves knelt down in front of him. Carefully he reached out to the black haired boy, whose trembling body was quickly reverting to the fetal position. Such pain he must have felt, such agony he had suffered through in his years with that vile monster of a woman. His hand rested on his shoulder, and to his surprise, instead of pulling away, Credence leaned in. He was starved for gentle touches, and for once, Graves found himself willing to provide that.

Wrapping his arms around his shoulders, Percival allowed him to weep in his arms, the gentle young man brokenly clinging to his coat for comfort. As a rule, Graves shied from intimacy. Relationships were practically unheard of for him. The joke that he was married to his work wasn't too far off the mark; he would spend most of his day at work when it was busy... and it was usually busy. Magical security was no small affair, and magical citizens all across the country counted on him to stay focused.

But with Credence, it was different. He didn't fully understand the reason he felt so drawn to him, the reason he felt a miasma of emotion welling inside his chest the moment they touched. There was something unhinged, unmanaged about this entire situation. In no universe did he anticipate being in such a position today, sitting in an alley holding a sobbing boy that he had no real reason to be around. He had to find out if the boy was actually of magical lineage, and if he did it could all be justified. Then it wouldn't just be him aiding Tina in her personal interest case. Perhaps, if he was careful, he could avoid losing his job like Tina had.

“I'm sorry Mister Graves. I – I didn't mean to...” Credence began to mumble as his crying slowed.

“Credence... I'm not upset with you. I'm the one who asked. It was foolish of me – I should have known it would be hard to recall.” His answer gave away his prior knowledge, but he doubted that Barebone was in any state to pick up on it.

“I don't mean to be so weak.” His voice was merely a whisper pressed into Percival's jacket.

“Credence...” He pulled back, hands on the youth's shoulders.

Credence's face was blotchy and pink from his break down, eyes swollen and unfocused. Tilting his head up with two fingers, the auror tried to force eye contact. He needed for his words to resonate with Credence in some way, to instill **some** measure of confidence in him before he would be willing to let him return to that place.

“Listen to me, my boy. You are not weak. You are **not** weak. You are one of the strongest people I have ever encountered. You have obviously been through far too much at such a young age... The fact that you are still carrying on is a testament to that strength. You are resilient and you are special, Credence. I know you've been told differently, that you've been hurt – but I know true courage when I see it, and I see it in you.” Percival insisted, holding his chin. Tears slipped from the corners of the youth's eyes then, sliding down his face in unhindered streams as he looked Percival in the eyes for the first time.

“M-Mister Graves... Do you really believe that?” He murmured brokenly. For a moment, Percival pressed his hand against the hot cheek of the abused youth.

“I rarely say things I don't mean, Credence. I truly believe you to be strong, and deserving of goodness. I... want to help you, my boy. And I will try to find a way to. But I need you to be as strong as I know you can be for now. There are some things I must see to in order to...” He trailed off. In order to free him. “Can you be strong for me until then?”

“When will I see you again?” Credence's head had fallen again, eyes turned away from Percival.

“I will come to you in two days. After supper – wait for me here.” Graves told him; that would give him enough time to do the investigating that he needed to do to solidify his newfound belief that the boy was of magical heritage. Standing from his position, Percival offered out a gloved hand, which Credence took to bring himself to his feet.

“Can... can you promise you'll be here?” Credence looked to him for a brief second before his gaze dropped away once more.

“I promise it, Credence.” An idea came to mind then. He removed his gloves; they were well-used and leather. Taking Credence's hand, he placed the pair in them. “I'll need to get my gloves back, after all.”

Credence regarded the old gloves like they were made of priceless jewels, jaw opening slightly and eyes wide. He looked back to Percival for a moment, seeking confirmation with his expression. Percival smiled lightly. Such joy he saw there, such admiration stemming from his promise. How easily it would be to break that. It was that very thought that solidified Percival's intentions.

He would free Credence Barebone, no matter the cost.

 


	3. Searching for Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival delves into his investigation of the Barebone boy.

The first stop in Graves' investigation was the Records department. He wasn't an uncommon sight there, so no one batted a lash when he apparated into the stacks with quiet intent. It was 1926, and Credence was 18 – his birth year was 1908. He had to have been unregistered, or his parents death would have triggered his removal to an appropriate orphanage. Perhaps his father had been a No-Maj. It was commonly known that relations between wizards and No-Maj's were strictly prohibited, so it would explain the secrecy. Credence had said she died when he was two years old.

He pulled the file for deaths taking place in New York City in 1910. The population of the city was massive, and that counted in two parts; the wizarding world and the No-Maj world shared equal portions. The file was fairly thick, but not unusually so. He sat down where he was and began to pour through the papers, carefully looking over the ages of each – he separated out women over 50 and under 17, figuring it was an adequate enough range. He would go through the younger ones first, assuming the folly of youth might lead a young witch to fall for a No-Maj boy in some secret affair.

Each file held a picture of the deceased, and a detailed account of their deaths where possible. Graves wasn't sure what exactly to look for, but hoped he would know when he found it. Most of the deaths were accidental. Backfired spells, beast-related deaths (that helped to enact the current ban), acts of nature.... There was even one listed that took place at Ilvermorny when a girl was drunk on giggle water with a few friends and fell to her death on a jagged piece of mountain, listed in the records because she was a New York resident.

None of the accidental deaths stuck out in any way, and none of the dead women caught his eye. Percival shifted his attention to the smaller, more menacing pile; homicides and deaths of a suspicious nature, some unsolved. Some of the murders were grizzly but solved, some were unsolved but the pictures held no connection to the boy.

Then he saw her.

The eyes that regarded him in the picture were familiar, almost intimately so; they held Credence's deep, soulful gaze.

Lillian Woodcroft. 23 upon her death with no listed relations. Her death was gruesome; she was locked inside a cellar when a beam of wood fell from the building that burned above, blocking her in. There was little left of her when she was found, and identification was difficult. It was ruled suspicious because she was without a wand when found despite having a permit. There was no trace of it anywhere, and death by fire smacked of Scourer involvement. The file mentioned one thing that also stuck out to him. Lillian had one note on her record.

Involvement outside of acceptable parameters with a No-Maj. Her wand had not been stripped, but the No-Maj had to be obliviated and she lost her job and credibility. There was no information about the No-Maj in question, the record vague on that end. Perhaps her death and the involvement with the No-Maj had been connected? Maybe... He would have to keep digging. Returning all but Lillian's file, Percival exited the stacks. If the poor witch had been involved with the wrong man – possibly Credence's father...

He paused in his movements, a thought occurring.

Rather than returning to his office, Percival moved to the elevator, looking down to the Goblin that waited there.

“Good afternoon, Red. Permit office, please.” He smiled cordially to the small creature, who lifted his cane to tap the appropriate floor level.

“Of course Sir. How's things on your end?” The Goblin made conversation as they rode down.

“Ah, the same as always, really. Forever swamped with paperwork, I'm afraid.” Graves chuckled.

“Well, you do good work Sir, you help keep the city safe. Ah – here we are. See you soon!” The elf tipped his hat as the door opened.

“Thank you, Red.” He chuckled, exiting the lift.

Looking bored at her desk was Tina, the reason for his visit.

“Tina! A word?” He called, looking to her.

Practically leaping to her feet, the squirrely woman moved to him, looking up.

“Mister Graves, what are you doing here?” She asked with some measure of suspicion.

“I came to discuss something with you. Care to break for lunch?” He didn't want to risk an office busybody impeding his explorations.

“I – yeah, sure, why not. You're buying.” She mumbled, an obvious jab about the pay cut she took when he demoted her.

“Of course.” He smirked.

//

The ride to Sullivan's, a local witch-run diner, was almost entirely silent. He assumed she still held some bitterness over the ordeal with the Barebones, but that couldn't be helped. Once seated, he regarded her with grim expression.

“I need information that only you might have, Tina – to cut right to the chase.” He told her.

“... What kinda information is that? You're being cryptic, Mister Graves.” She didn't look at him, focused on her menu.

“About Mary Lou Barebone.” Her countenance shifted, from neutral to dubious, staring at him.

“I don't have any information on her, Mister Graves. That case was closed. You're the one who had it closed.” She reminded him tersely.

“It's the information you might not have given that I'm interested in, Tina. I've been meeting with the boy as you asked, though I kept that to myself until now... I have reason to believe that he may be of magical ancestry. Mary Lou Barebone is not his biological mother.” He told her. The brunette's eyes widened at the implication, and she leaned forward as if to hide some scandal.

“You've been meeting with him? … How is he? How do you know about that last bit? I never mentioned that during my judgment... That woman is pure evil but --” She began to ramble, rattling off enthusiastic questions.

“Tina – relax. I need you to think. When you were investigating them, did Mary Lou have any relations aside from her children?” Percival needed her to focus. The questions he had were eating at him, the thought of the youth being beaten while he mucked about weighing heavy on him.

“Relations? Like – family, friends?” She asked for clarification.

“Any. Did she ever had a brother or a male friend, maybe even her father...” He asked, frowning.

“Well, her winning personality didn't really gain her any friends that I know of, and from what I knew, her parents both died of illness around the turn of the century... But she had a brother.” She looked to him. “I don't know much about him since she was the one I was investigating, but I did know that he broke away from their traditions – he didn't want to be a Scourer like she did. He was younger...”

Percival pulled the file from inside his jacket and pushed it across the table to her. A hand went to cover the shocked o her mouth had formed upon seeing the picture. Her eyes went large as she read the contents of the record. Percival frowned deeply. She had made the same connection he had.

“He told me his mother died when he was two... That Mary Lou told him she was a witch. Look at the eyes on her, look at that face. She's his mother. I can't see it being anyone else... And it would make sense, wouldn't it? Look at the note. His father must be a No-Maj – that's the only reason I can think of that he wouldn't be known to us. She must have hidden him because of the implication...” Percival's voice had taken a tone of sadness. Sometimes, the Statute of Secrecy hurt more than it could ever help.

“And if she'd fallen in with Mary Lou's brother... Merlin's beard.” Tina whispered, following his thought.

“His obliviation could have wiped out any knowledge he would have had of being with her, but no one would have accounted for Mary Lou. And if Mary Lou had known that her brother was in a relationship with a witch...” Percival took a deep breath.

“Oh, God.” Tina mumbled into her hand, doe eyes filling with tears. “She would have taken Credence in because he was only a child but... but hated him for it. Oh god, that poor thing.”

“Tina, we can help him now. Now that I know... **I** can help him. I'm so sorry the matter wasn't looked into further. I'll find some way to prove she was his mother... He'll be a magical citizen, with all the protections that go along with that.” Percival's voice was soft, as soothing as he could manage. That was two people he had made cry in as many days.

“How? How can you prove it without risking your job? How can you be positive this is all true?” She asked with a voice heavy laden with sorrow for the boy.

“The first thing I need to do is find out whether or not the boy is a squib... I'm going to make a quick trip to Ilvermorny to see if their Quill and Book has any record of him, and of any letters sent that went unanswered... If not, he's likely a squib – though he can still be part of the community if that's the case.” Percival ran a hand through his graying hair, leaning back in his seat.

“I can't imagine he's not a squib... He'd have died by now.” She pointed out.

“That is true. If he is magical he likely practices in secret or something... I'm meeting with him tomorrow. I don't think I can in good conscience let him stay with that woman any longer.” Percival regarded her for a moment as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Good. As long as he's safe... Everything will have been worth it.”

 


	4. Conclusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graves makes a startling discovery.

The trip to Ilvermorny proved to be as fruitless as it was tedious. The school year was just beginning, so there were students at every turn, all curious about him and his visit. The headmaster of the school was less than helpful, doing the bare minimum to assist him in his search. He was only allowed access to the room with the Book of Admission and quill towards mid-day, and even then he was only allowed to look when several school authorities were there to oversee him, acting as glorified babysitters.

There was no sign of anyone with the last name of Woodcroft or Barebone, nor a single Credence to be found within the years that Credence's magic was most likely to begin manifesting. Percival tried to look on the bright side; even as a squib Credence had a place, and he could still see to it that that place was far removed from Mary Lou Barebone and her church of extremism and hatred.

He had taken the express train to the school, one that went directly from Manhattan to the mountainside. The trip was lovely and scenic but overall, a complete waste of his time. He'd left after work the night before, and now it was around dawn. No sleep had been had during the ride back, because Graves' mind had become a slurried mess of paranoid concern.  Perhaps his meddling with this young man would be his undoing, and that was what that dream had meant.  Maybe it had meant that he was poking his nose into business he had no reason to be in.  If he was found out somehow, what would happen to him?  Would the government punish him for his insistence on pursuing this boy? Would he be relegated to the wand permit office like Tina had been? His career was everything to him.

Or would it be worse? Would he be sent to the death cell?

Exhausted and ill tempered, he trudged into the Woolworth building, wearing the same clothing as the night before.

“Director Graves, we've been trying to reach you for an hour!” Paloma Proudfoot, their Surveillor of Activity, dashed towards him in a wild rush, eyes wide. “You're needed immediately at the corner of Henry and Market – there's been an incident.”

“What manner of incident?” Percival snapped, switching into work mode while burying his concerns.

“A building was destroyed, and the street was torn to shreds... The No-Maj's there are saying it was some sort of 'black fog'.” She informed him. “Madame President needs you there to investigate before we can take the proper measures to ensure that the Statute is kept.”

Percival said nothing, turning on his heel to run back out of the building. A black fog... That was worrisome. Magical, no doubt, but what could it be? Something that could destroy buildings and streets so easily would be a menace in terms of the Statute. It would need to be made short work of, whether it be beast or rogue wizard. But what manner of beast would leave such devastation while not also being incredibly obvious?

The scene was a mess still when he arrived. No-Maj's were everywhere, with their police officers grilling every possible witness. Their hamfisted method of investigation made it easy for Graves to carry out his own. Examining the road visually as he passed, Percival checked for the telltale signs of magic; wisps of smoke not visible to the No-Maj eye, lines of destruction too clear cut for a natural disaster to be the cause. He was there not ten minutes before concluding that no No-Maj could be responsible for this... which meant that Percival had a long day ahead of him.

//

Mountains of paperwork and at least twenty interviews with members of the community later, Percival finally had a chance to breathe. The whole investigation into the Market Street catastrophe had been almost as fruitless as his search at Ilvermorny, except that a fair few had claimed to have seen the same thing. A vicious black and red fog that crackled with energy. It had sounded, according to one witch, like it was screaming and wailing as it tore through the concrete. Percival had never heard of such a thing. Magical backfires were one thing, but something sentient and malicious?

So buried with work was he that dinner time came and went. By seven pm he was finally exciting the building... and that was when the realization that he had gone back on his promise spurred his feet into a run. Cursing himself as guilt coursed through his heart, Graves practically sprinted to the alley where he was supposed to have met Credence. The sound of gentle sobbing crushed him once again. Had he been waiting there for him for long?

“Credence, I'm so sorry... I was kept late at work.” Graves explained softly as he entered the alley, approaching the huddled figure in the back in the manner one would a wounded animal.

“Credence?” He whispered as he moved closer when he received no response.

“I apologize a million times – but I'm here now, alright? You don't have to cry.” He sat on his knees down at his front, reaching a hand out to stroke his short, jet black hair.

“M-M-m – I-” Credence stuttered fiercely, speech breaking as he struggled to draw in a breath without choking on his sobs. In his hands he clutched the gloves Percival had left with him two days prior.

“Come to me, my boy. I'm so sorry I kept you waiting for so long...” He pulled the youth's arms from around his legs, bringing him into his arms. He felt like an absolute villain. How many people had gone back on their promises to him in his life? How many had scorned him? And here Graves was, adding to his pain.

“M-Mister G-g....” He wasn't able to form words quite yet, but his weeping had slowed a little at the closeness, body hot with energy.

“Shh, shh. It's alright. You don't have to talk yet – just let it out, my boy.” He said it softly, stroking the back of his head. Credence melted against him, arms slinking around his waist and holding limply, face pressed once more into his chest. It was a position he was finding himself in more and more... He might enjoy it more in a different context, of course.

A long while passed before Credence was able to vocalize properly, which he did without moving, head still tucked against Percival's chest beneath his head.

“I'm scared, Mister Graves... I – I need help.” He whispered it. If he hadn't stopped crying, Percival wouldn't have even heard him, so light his voice was.

“What are you scared of, Credence?” He asked, pulling away just enough to get a look at him. Credence met his eyes with a gaze that sent a chill through Graves. His face was pale as a ghost, but his eyes were dark and large, the whites barely visible. There was little emotion in them.

“I'm scared of myself.” He told him.

“You... What's happened to you, Credence? Why are you scared of yourself?” He returned, making great efforts not to be put off by the stare. The moment he spoke, Credence's expression seemed to chang to something more human, something less detached and bestial then what he'd seen not a moment before. Perhaps Percival had dreamed the look up. His brows furrowed, eyes once again filling with tears and slipping out through the corners.

“I – I'm bad, Mister Graves. I did a bad thing and – and I don't know what to do... I need help. Help me, Mister Graves, please!” He pleaded, hands sliding from around Graves' waist to his shirt, fingers bunching into the fabric with sudden desperation.

“Credence, I need to know what you did. I can help you, but I need to know what happened while I was gone.” He brought his own hands up, cupping his cheeks between his hands. “Talk to me, please.”

“I lost control of... of the bad thing inside of me.” Credence stared into his eyes, which had gone wide with horror. Under different circumstances Percival might appreciate how expressive the youth was with fondness, but right now it made him feel sick.

“What bad thing, Credence?” Percival urged in confusion.

“I don't know what it is, Mister Graves... but it hurts. It feels like – like something trying to rip apart my soul, and whenever someone is cruel to me it gets worse... It tries to tear me to shreds. I've been trying to control it for so long – I – I think it's a demon. I think my real mama put it in me when she died because she was bad so that I could be bad too.” He rambled, trying as well as he could to keep his anguish at bay. The explanation was the only one Credence could comprehend given his background.

“And you say you think you lost control of this demon?” Percival stroked his cheeks with his thumbs, looking over his face, trying to keep the boy focused.

“I don't think it Sir... I know it. Yesterday a man shoved me down and that was okay, because sometimes it happens because a lot of people don't like me. But... I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. Then at night, Modesty broke something on the table when she was reaching for something else and Mama heard it, and I didn't want her to be punished so I told Mama it was me... She hates it when things get broken so she was really mad. She punished me and I think that just made the demon really angry... So angry that after night fell, it got out. I tried so hard to keep it inside, Mister Graves, I tried so **hard** but in the end it didn't matter. It burst out of me and – and all I can remember was screaming and crying... and I think I was flying, somehow? It felt like I had exploded into a thousand pieces... When I woke up from it I was down by the East River, but I wasn't wet. I managed to get home before Mama got up so I wouldn't be punished again, but...” He trailed off as tears began to pour once more. “Did I hurt people, Mister Graves?”

Percival's stomach dropped, throat going sickly thick. The beast that had leveled a building and part of the street... Could it really be him? What did that mean for the boy? Was he indeed possessed by something, through some powerful legilimens?

No, that couldn't be. There would be no reason to get into this young man's head. The truth was far more terrifying.

Credence Barebone was an Obscurial at his breaking point. How he had lived for so long with such a thing eating him alive was nearly impossible to imagine, but it was the only reasonable explanation. There was no recorded Obscurial that had lived so long – a testament to what was likely tremendous latent power. And so vicious was Mary Lou Barebone's hatred of magic and those that used it that she had suppressed the magic in Credence for years. She had made this happen, and Percival was powerless to punish her for it. The only demon that had hurt Credence was her.

“Credence... This isn't your fault.” Percival stroked the tears from his cheek. “I will help you, but I need for you to trust me, and do as I say. You didn't hurt anyone, also... I know this as a fact.”

Credence stared up at him, disbelief in his eyes. He was convinced that he was bad, and that the entirety of this ordeal was on his shoulders. “How... how can you help me? What can you do? I – I'm broken. I want help but I think it might be too late.”

“Credence, listen to me. Tonight, and any other night after this one, I will not allow you to return to that home. I know what's happening with you, and it isn't a demon. It is something that you can't have known about... something that should never have been allowed to happen.” Percival didn't want to give away everything just yet. He knew the boy was fearful of magic and all its implications, but time wasn't on their side. Not with an Obscurus waking from dormancy dwelling inside of him.

“You know what this is?” Credence stared at him in wide eyed wonder.

“Yes. And I know you may be afraid to do so, but I want you to stay with me. You'll be safe with me, Credence, and we can begin to work on how to.. fix this.” Percival didn't want to use such terms, but he worried Credence would not understand.

“Mama...” Credence voice his gentle worry.

“You'll be safe with me, Credence. Not with her. She's making what's inside you happen. Staying with her will only hurt you and those around you. Please, at least for tonight, will you come home with me?” Percival practically begged. If there was no incident like the night before while Credence was in his care, it would confirm it for him.

“Can... can you promise I don't have to go back?” Credence's eyes fell away from his gaze, lowering as if full of shame.

“You can stay with me as long as you wish it, my boy. I will do whatever I can to help fix this.” Percival smiled softly.

“Thank you, Mister Graves.” Credence fell against him then, unexpectedly. He craved his touch so deeply, trusted him so implicitly that he had likely been waiting for his arrival for hours, and was willing to come to stay with him after only knowing him a short month.

And for once, the thought of such trust didn't horrify him.

Instead, something akin to pride welled up in his chest, pride for his role in protecting the youth, and pride that he had earned that trust.

The connection that they had was undeniable, and Percival would guard that with all that he had.

 


	5. Assumptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival brings Credence into the safety of his home and discovers that the younger man is not as completely naive as he'd once believed.

“This place is beautiful,” Credence mumbled as they entered the apartment, one hand holding Percival's arm in the way that a child would hold a parent for guidance, “Are you sure you want me here?”

“Credence, if I didn't want you here, you wouldn't be here. My home is your home, now, for however long, alright?” He informed him. “Thank you, by the way. I'm not here often so everything probably has a layer of dust on it.”

“Oh, if you want, I can clean up for you... While you work and do other things. Unless you don't want me here while you aren't around.” Credence fidgeted, holding his hands at his front after pulling away from Graves.

“You aren't here to be a maid, Credence, but I won't stop you if that's what you want to do. You're allowed to leave here if you wish, but I only ask that you be very careful about where you go.” Graves chuckled.

Since the youth had agreed to stay with him, Graves felt a thousand times more at ease. Mary Lou would likely have a fit trying to find him, or assume that he had fallen to some vaguely described evil and not bother looking at all. Percival knew there were trials ahead, but at least with Credence safe in his home and at his side there was some foundation on which to tread.

“I would like to... I like to keep busy. Idle hands and all that.” When he said it, he actually rolled his eyes a little, giving a smile. Percival's cheeks began to burn a little, finding the expression to be a strange mixture of endearing and attractive. There was a personality in there, tucked beneath the abuse that had dominated his life before, and he aimed to pull it out.

“Well, don't worry. You'll find there's little devil's work to be done around here.” Graves chuckled. “Are you hungry? I can whip us up something while we talk... and there's a lot to talk about.”

“A little, Mister Graves. I haven't eaten more than a piece of bread today since Mama was in a terrible mood.” He said gently, shaking his head. Credence was skin and bones and it was no wonder why.

“Well, I'll make us something significant then. Have a look around if you wish, or if you prefer, two sets of hands in the kitchen is better than one.” The value of having a choice would likely either appeal to or overwhelm Credence, whose entire existence had, up until that point, hinged on the decisions of another. Percival aimed to give him as much freedom as possible, to un-stifle him while still giving him needed structure in his life.

“Oh... Um. I think I would rather help in the kitchen. I don't want to intrude or be overly curious about your place... I'll wait until you can show me around.” Credence explained softly.

Percival was secretly pleased to keep him at his side. Being in the presence of the Barebone boy was becoming somewhat comforting. It was like coming home after a long day of work, or the sound of rain on the rooftops in the darkest hours of the night. He represented something not often found in the city; innocence and goodness. Somehow, his gentle spirit had not been stripped away by the madness he grew up in. Somehow, he had managed to make it this far despite all of his anguish and fear. There was no agenda that he held, no secret plot. All Credence seemed to want was tenderness, and to belong somewhere.

He belonged there, with Percival. Getting him there was easy enough; being allowed by MACUSA and the President to keep him there was going to be difficult. Percival would have to go against many of the values he stood for. Knowledge of a dangerous Obscurus without reporting it was something unheard of, something that could get him killed, but the issue wasn't so cut and dry. He wasn't in the business of punishing those who were victimized. He wouldn't execute the boy for a condition he was completely ignorant of. Perhaps this was an opportunity to learn more about the nature of the parasitic magic, and how to draw it out without widespread destruction. If there was still a way to teach Credence without something terrible happening, he would find it.

“Is there anything particular you're hungry for? I'm not the best chef.” He asked. In truth, he was terrible at it and relied entirely on magic to fix his meals... when he wasn't at a diner somewhere.

“I don't know what you have, Sir.” Credence pointed out.

“Ah! That's right. Go ahead, take a look. Whatever you like, we'll make it.” He tried not to worry about the fact that he had little idea what he was doing... Perhaps it would be an area in which Credence thrived and he could get him to take over.

Credence examined the contents of the refrigerator in silence. He began to take things out, mostly fresh vegetables and a cut of meat that Percival didn't remember obtaining. He wondered to himself when would be a good time to speak to him on his findings... And, ever tactful, Percival decided that there was no time like the present.

“Credence, there is a lot you've been kept in the dark about. I've found out a lot in the past few days about you, and about your situation.” Percival began, moving to start dividing up the vegetables, getting out a pristine (because it had never been used) cutting board and two knives.

Credence bit his lip and looked up at him.

“You have?” He said it, caution and worry written in his features.

“I have... if you're ready to hear about it, I can tell you. But I won't rush you for now.” Percival told him.

“I don't think I'll ever be ready to hear it, Mister Graves, so I'll leave that up to you.” Credence told him softly as he moved to cut up the vegetables. Apparently he already had a meal in mind and was prepping with practiced ease. A lifetime of serving meals to others likely meant that he cooked them at points as well.

“I think it's best to get it out now so that we can better work on how to help you.” Percival couldn't help but be nervous. Now that he knew what lurked inside of Credence, if his reaction went poorly, he could be killed.

“O-okay...” Credence chopped the vegetables carefully, keeping his gaze averted from the older man.

“The first thing I must tell you, to preface, is that witches and wizards are very much real. I know this because I am one.” Percival spoke gently, worried.

“Oh. Yeah, I thought that might be the case.” Credence smiled softly, glancing over his shoulder to him.

Percival was lost for words for a moment. He thought that was the case? How? Had he seen him use magic at some point... No, he had walked each time they had gone somewhere and each time he had met with the youth, and had never taken out his wand.

“... You did?” All there was left to do was to ask.

“You reminded me a lot of Miss Tina... and I knew she was a witch. I saw her cast a spell on Mama, and when the people came to try and make her and I both forget, I wished with every part of myself that I wouldn't forget her. They did the spell and mama acted like nothing had ever happened, but I think I resisted it, somehow. I heard her pleading with them to please let her take me, and not let Mama keep me any longer.” He watched what he was doing, focusing on his knife work, frown gently pulling at the corners of his lips. “And when you started to come around I thought that Miss Tina might have been told she can't see me, 'cause the men who wiped Mama's memories looked like official government types. I thought that maybe she asked you to check on me instead, because I know she worried for me and wanted to protect me.”

“... You're a remarkable young man, Credence.” Percival breathed, shock evident in his eyes.

“No Sir. I just try my best to pay attention to what's happening around me. It comes easy when most people ignore you. And I know someone like you, someone who says he's a banker with a nice apartment like this... someone like you wouldn't be interested in being around someone like me without some other reason. So I thought of Miss Tina. That's all.” Credence was beginning to blush, creeping down from the apex of his high cheekbones.

“That you were able to figure all of that out... while managing to resist obliviation; Credence, please. Give yourself more credit. It's almost unheard of for someone untrained to have such skill. You stun me every time I hear you speak.” Percival moved to him.

“Mister Graves... You're too kind. I'm not so special.” Credence set the knife down, turning slightly to look up at him, the tips of his ears pink. Percival brought a hand up to touch them with a smile, shaking his head.

“You are special, Credence. Someday I hope you believe that as I do, my boy. Can I ask you to call me Percival? Or even Percy?” He rested his hand on his cheek, Credence's permeating warmth reminding him of the dream that had occupied his night a while back... He pulled his hand away and cleared his throat. Now wasn't the time for that. It certainly wasn't the best time for spontaneous erections when the youth was already a bundle of nerves.

“I'll try... but it is a habit, Mi-- Percival. I usually address my elders by title or last name out of respect.” He bit his lip a little in a way that was certainly **not** helping him calm himself.

“I understand.” He smiled, clearing his throat. “Well... At any rate. I've found out some things about your parentage. Your mother was indeed a witch, Credence... I found her identity in our records. The moment I saw her picture there was no mistaking it.”

“W-what? She was? Does that mean I'm magic too?” His eyes went wide once again, awestruck.

“It means that you have magical lineage. She... was murdered, Credence. And though I have no way to prove this, I have reason to believe that your father is Mary Lou's brother. That she found this out somehow and...” Percival frowned as the joy in Credence's eyes drained instantly.

“Oh... Oh god. S-she always spoke bad about my mother... she always hated her brother, too. My uncle Jeremiah – he was always scorned by the family because he didn't want to be part of the church. He was the intellectual type, moved out to San Francisco a few years ago and we haven't heard a thing from him since...” Eyes glassy with tears, Credence leaned heavily on the counter, hand balling into a fist to smack against the smooth granite. “I knew Mama was cruel but... but could... could that be true?”

“I have no way of proving it, unfortunately. It happened a long time ago and the only information I have is already known.” Percival apologized gently.

“She needs to be punished... She always told us murder was the worst of sins, that we weren't like our ancestors!” He punched the side of the counter again, other hand balling up. “How could she do such a thing!”

“Credence, listen to me.” Despite his instincts screaming at him not to approach, Percival did so, closing the gap between them and once more taking Credence's cheeks into his hands, tilting his head up.

“No! I... I can punish her. I can... I can avenge my _real_ mother. It's – it's in me... I can... I can use it to...” Credence's eyes were clenched shut.

“No, Credence! Stay with me. Please! Don't do it – if you do I can't help you... I want to help you control this, please!” Percival plead.

When Credence's eyes opened again, the breath was nearly knocked from the auror's lungs. The boy's aura, his presence, everything that seemed small and meek about him had been dashed. In its stead was an overwhelming power, something unlike anything he had ever felt. His eyes had gone milky white, brows furrowed in concentration. Was he trying to hold the Obscurus back or gather up its strength? A lump gathered heavily in Percival's throat. It was like standing in the center of a tornado. One wrong move and he could be caught up in it, body and spirit ripped asunder.

Percival dropped to his knees in desperation, arms wrapping around his waist and face pressing firmly against his stomach, holding him tight. He would be Credence's anchor, eyes burning and body taut with fear. If he was unsuccessful and ended up swept up in the storm wrought by his rage, then so be it. Never before had he been so willing to throw himself into the fires of anothers emotions, never before had he felt such a pull to protect something as if sacrosanct. _This_ was what the dream meant; his destiny was intertwined with Credence's, for better or for worse.

And almost as suddenly as it had been brought on, the anger, the crackling power, the promise of terrifying violence all disappeared... The auror felt long, shaking fingers toying with his hair. Percival looked up to see the color returning to Credence's eyes, the anger and fear draining from his face. His beautiful, beautiful face.

“I – I'm sorry... I didn't mean to. I don't want to be that way anymore, Mis-- Percy.” Credence spoke with a voice as gentle as dawn's light. “I'm sorry if I scared you.”

“Credence... No matter what, I'll be here. We're in this together.” Percival took one of his hands from where it pushed through his hair to kiss his knuckles.

Credence slowly shifted in his arms, sliding down the counter, landing half on Percival's lap, knees spread to either side of him and long arms resting on his shoulders.

“Do you mean it... Percy?” The way he spoke his name was reverent and lovely. Cupping his cheek in hand, Percival smiled.

“Absolutely, Credence. I am yours.” He told him.

At first, he didn't know if Credence understood the gravity of Graves' statement. At first, he assumed that Credence would think he meant to be some father figure, some sort of big brother to him.

His assumptions about the youth proved once again to be completely off the mark when the he leaned in, pressing his lips to Percival's in the most delicate, heartbeat skipping kiss he had ever received.

 


	6. Domestic Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival and Credence settle in to living with one another.

The kiss they shared that night was the first of many more, Percival was pleased to discover. Over the next two weeks he learned that once unhindered by the threat of violent retribution, Credence was endlessly warm and affectionate. He loved more than anything to be held, to be kissed gently, and even, Percival found one night after the first week, to have his bare skin stroked anywhere Percival cared to venture. Graves remained as chaste as he could with Credence, however, not wanting to push him too far and frighten him somehow.

But it wasn't always happy and idyllic.

There were times that he shied from touch, when that touch wasn't expected or seen coming. His sleep was often fitful at best. He had slept on the couch for the first few nights, and each of those nights Percival had woken to the sounds of gasping, weeping, and pain as terrors dominated Credence's unconscious mind. After the third night of that, Percival had insisted on Credence sleeping in the bed with him.

And, of course, there were still habits that the youth couldn't seem to break.

Percival couldn't deny the frustration that came with constantly having to remind Credence that he didn't need permission to take care of his needs, especially when Graves wasn't home. He wouldn't even eat unless Percival was there to tell him he could. It was a struggle to remove the idea from the Barebone boy that he was some subhuman creature alive but for the grace of god, and that any minor infraction was worthy of a beating.

Despite all of this, Graves still found himself willing to work through it with him, taking joy in each bit of progress Credence made. He was positively jubilant when he came home to find that Credence had taken a book from the bookshelves and was reading with a cup of tea before falling asleep on the couch. He had gathered him into his arms and curled up to nap with him there, feeling more content than he had felt in years.

It wasn't just general living skills that Percival aimed to teach Credence. Magic, as well, was on the docket, each day a new lesson when he came home. He never had to worry about Credence practicing things while he wasn't around, so it was easy enough to schedule things. He showed great enthusiasm at the idea of learning literally anything Graves was willing to teach; it was the mechanics of teaching that came a bit more difficult.

Because they were doing this in secrecy, Percival's methods were ones he considered to be less than savory. He felt like a hypocrite when he visited the 'black market', a back alley shop in the Bronx known for selling without proper licenses and permits but for being very discreet. He had picked up a number of beginner's books and supplies... The wand was something that came more difficult. Their usage and distribution were highly regulated in America, and MACUSA was extremely effective at keeping illegal wands off the streets. He had considered asking Tina to forge him a permit, but knew the idea was silly.

Graves had just kept to letting Credence practice with his wand. Though his wand was finicky with the new hand on it, they had taken to one another like old friends. Credence was a fast learner, picking up the appropriate hand motions for wand holding easily and casting his first charm – _lumos_ – with great success. His reaction had been wonderful to behold; he'd barked out a laugh, jumping up and down as the wand glowed, eyes wide in unrepentant joy. Percival had laughed with him, unable to restrain himself the way he often did.

The Obscurus was a problem, one that Graves was unsure of how to approach. He knew it was there, stirring beneath the surface, slowly devouring the young man that Graves was growing closer and closer to, but no one in recorded history had ever removed an Obscurus without the death of its host. The thought of Credence being unable to sustain and giving in to the terrible pain of it was a thought that kept Graves up at night.

He had tried a few things already, but there was no real way to gauge how successful it was. The parasite may have been linked with Credence down to the core of his being, and separating them was a dangerous task. He had tried healing spells – they mended his body of the fresher wounds given by Mary Lou, but nothing of his spirit. He tried potions – ones to cure unusual ailments, ones to remove poisons, but they had done nothing but make his stomach ache. He wondered if having a healthy outlet to practice his magic could aid in lessening the hold this beast had on his boy, or if this was all an exercise in futility. He hadn't come near a loss of control like he had during his first night there, so Percival wanted to hope the best.

He had spent the better portion of his day pouring research into the Obscurus; and since Credence's first incident weeks ago had been identified as a possible case of it, not even the President bothered him about it. It was a frustrating bit of research full of half-records and eyewitness testimonies full of existential dread. Had no one ever gotten to one of those poor children before they were killed by the parasite? Had no one ever **tried**?

By the time he returned home his mood was completely sour. He tossed his jacket to the couch and went in search of Credence... who he found quickly but unexpectedly. The youth was in the bathtub, bathing by candlelight.

“Ah! Sorry, I'll leave you to that.” Graves cleared his throat, making great efforts to avoid gawking, taking a step backwards to let him bathe in peace.

“You don't have to, Percy...” Credence watched him from where he was, hands absently playing with the bubbles.

His efforts were instantly dashed as he righted his feet. He took a deep breath as he regarded the younger man, needing to take a moment just to appreciate the sight. His hair was growing out of that wretched bowl cut, the sides growing in black and thick. Credence's normally pale skin was bathed in flickering amber candlelight. His eyes were the most stunning feature, though. As he leaned his chin on the side of the tub, the look he found there was one of adoration and need. Percival moved to him, kneeling at the side of the tub and taking his cheek in hand.

“Very well... I can stay in here with you. It can't hurt.” He chuckled lightly. His mood had shifted for the better the moment he laid eyes on him.

“If... if you want... you can get in with me. T-there's room.” Credence looked up at him. Percival had to take a long, slow breath to calm himself.

“Are you sure, Credence? I can't get in with my clothing on, you know.” Percival reminded him, more to clarify it to himself then to drive that point home.

“I don't mind.” Credence leaned in a little, kissing his cheek and giving that warm little smile Graves had grown to love.

“I have such a hard time saying no to you, my boy.” Percival chuckled a little to give an air of confidence that he didn't actually feel.

Credence gave a little grin and scooted forward in the bathtub, watching the auror as he stood up. It was odd how self-conscious he suddenly felt with those eyes on him. He'd never had reason to have less than stellar self-esteem, but there was a part of him that desperately hoped that the sight of him wasn't a disappointment to Credence. Or, even worse, there was the thought that Credence would see his growing erection and be terrified of him. He wished there was a spell to stop that, but the idea of such close and such naked proximity to the object of his affection had already sent the blood rushing.

He turned away from him as he disrobed, folding his clothing up and setting it them aside. When he turned, Credence was still watching, but now he bit his lip and his cheeks had gone pink. He gave a smile, covering himself with a towel and moving back towards the tub... but paused when a frown formed on the others lips.

“Now, what's with that look?” For a brief moment he faltered. Paranoia dominated his mind as he awkwardly held his genitalia to hide them from the innocent youth who beckoned him towards the bathtub.

“... Why are you hiding?” Credence worried his lower lip, observing him still.

“Oh, um... My apologies.” Percival found himself once again amazed with Credence and annoyed at himself. He speculated too many things about the youth's nature already, why should this be any different? Grinning a bit awkwardly, he let his hands drop. It was with some pride he watched as those dark eyes immediately shifted to peek at the bits that had previously been guarded... and with even greater pride he noted how wide his eyes became.

Stepping into the tub, Percival slid in behind him, a bit of excess water sloshing up and out to the tiles below. When the water settled once more, he dipped his hands into the warm bath and found Credence's thin hips, pulling him closer, drawing him back to lay against his chest. Tense for a moment, he was quiet before relaxing against Graves, long legs pulling out of the water to rest against the lip of the tub, trusting Percival to keep him from slipping.

“I didn't expect this.” Percival admitted, hand tracing little patterns along Credence's stomach.

“I wanted to do something nice for you and I know you've been working really hard... I don't have much to give so this was what I thought of,” Credence admitted softly, “I cleaned the house too, and made a nice dinner.”

Percival felt a fluttering in his heart, an unassailable adoration that grew with each night they spent together. He didn't say Credence that the apartment was already spotless because he kept it that way, or that he had eaten at the office. The gestures meant the world to him. He placed a kiss to the temple of the young man reclining against his chest, squeezing him lightly with his arms. Credence let out a breathy giggle.

“Did that make you happy?” Credence grinned a little, looking up at him. Percival poked his nose.

“ _You_ make me happy.” Percival corrected, sliding his hands from slender shoulders to broad, thin chest, coming to rest on his hips. There was scarring in random spots across Credence's torso, but he didn't mind the feeling of them. The only thing that caused offense in his eyes was the reason for they had been formed in the first place... but he could do little about that now. He could not bring Mary Lou to the justice she deserved. She was part of the No-Maj world, where he had no jurisdiction. If he were to commit some act of vigilante justice, it would endanger the one who needed him the most.

All he could do was ensure Credence's future to the best of his ability.

“I do?” Credence's hand rested on Percival's knee, long fingers tapping at his skin for lack of a better occupation.

“Yes, Credence... I've never felt so strongly about someone. You're.. much younger than I am, and usually that might put me off – but you're so different. You haven't let the world rob you of who you are despite its best efforts... and when I make you smile I feel as if I could accomplish anything. I don't like to speak so frankly when it comes to feelings so it's a little difficult for me to express these things – I feel foolish, honestly. I just want you to know that what I feel is true and... very unexpected.” His fingers wandered on their own, tiptoeing down his hip and thigh. Credence closed his eyes, allowing the touches, shifting towards his hands.

“I know you're being honest... You're a bad liar when you try. I – I feel the same. I want to keep making you happy, Mister G-- Percy...” Sometimes when Credence was overwhelmed he still slipped and referred to him as Mister Graves. Percival found it, like most things the younger man did, endearing.

“And I want to do the same for you.” Percival leaned in.

When he pressed a kiss to the sharp jawline presented so tantalizingly each time Credence tilted his head up, the auror felt him draw in a quick breath. The fingers on his knee began to knead at him lightly, but nothing in Credence's posture signified that these reactions were negative, so Graves took it as a sign to continue. He kissed a line towards Credence's pulsepoint as his own hand slid tenderly up the youth's thigh, tips just barely grazing over the length of his cock. Another quick breath and the sight of toes curling made Graves a little bolder, large hand dragging beneath the water to stroke him once.

“M-Mister Graves!” Credence gasped, and immediately Graves removed his hand.

“I'm sorry, Credence – was it too much?” He mumbled, disappointed but concerned.

“I've never felt that before.” Credence looked up at him, eyes wide. “It feels good – y-you don't have to stop.”

“Never? You haven't ever...” Graves trailed off, catching himself. Of course he hadn't. Credence had spent his entire life in constant fear under the thumb of a religious maniac who probably made him think his penis was an instrument of the Devil. “Well, that's okay. I would be happy to share another first with you, my darling. If you want to move around at all, hold on to me, anything you wish, we can do it.”

“I – I think...” Credence mumbled a little, holding the sides of the tub to pull himself up enough to re-position his lithe body. “I wanna face you.”

Percival's cock ached with need, but he did what he could to ignore it and focus on the younger man. At least in the proposed position he would be able to see his reactions. Sliding so that his knees were on either side of Percival's thighs, Credence wrapped his arms around the older man's shoulders. He plunged lightly back into the water, moving so that his body was as close to Graves' as he could get it. The idea and the action made the auror a little giddy and even more bold, slipping his hand between them to catch hold of his length.

“There's my boy...” He mumbled, smiling as Credence leaned in, pressing the side of his face to his. Though a bit saddened at being unable to see his face now, he felt it was more important he let Credence have control.

Credence was unashamed of his noises, unrestrained with his movements. He whimpered and pushed towards Percival's hand, gasped against his ear and rolled with each languid stroke. The older man took his time, savoring the way Credence came undone at the most simple touch. His other hand moved to Credence's cheek, thumb brushing against the youth's lips.

Percival groaned when Credence once again proved that nothing ever happens as expected by parting his lips, tongue touching the pad of his finger tentatively, curious. Taking it as an invitation, he pushed it into the warm heat of his mouth, giving another pleased groan when the younger man latched on, sucking enthusiastically. His finger inside his mouth mimicked the movements of his other hand unintentionally, sliding along the tip of his tongue as his fingertips brushed over the slit of Credence's cock.

“You're so lovely, Credence.” Percival mumbled, smiling as he picked up speed.

“M-Mister Graves, can...” Credence mumbled around the digit in his mouth. As he spoke, he brought a hand down, sliding it shakily down Percival's chest.

“Whatever you want... I meant that.” He reminded him.

He found himself pushed flush against the side of the tub as Credence moved in as close as possible, long fingers sliding around Percival's proud-standing length. A few curious touches, examining him beneath the water. Percival moaned for him to encourage any touch he felt like giving, the hand jerking Credence slipping away with perfect timing. The younger man had been slowly pumping his hips, and the loss of the hand left him nowhere to go but against Percival. Their cocks met in the most delicious way, and Percy took both in hand to stroke them together.

Credence mimicked his movements with his own hand while still curving his body into him. Percival removed his finger from his mouth and wrapped it around the scar-valley laden back of his younger lover, holding on to him as he hurtled towards his climax. No other encounter had ever struck him so intensely, had ever felt so natural and perfect. It was abundantly clear by the nature of Credence's pants and fevered moans that he was near his end as well. Percival took the opportunity to kiss him fiercely, swallowing his moan as they came in sync between their bodies.

Trembling, Credence sagged against him, trying to return the kiss but unable to find the energy. Percival pulled his hand away, wrapping the youth up in his arms as he often did, stroking his back and placing kisses along his cheek and jawline instead.

“How do you feel?” He asked once a few moments had passed.

“Warm and sleepy.” Credence's voice was soft and melodic, practically a purr. Percival chuckled.

“Mm. How about we have that dinner and go to bed early, then?” He suggested.

“Mmhm.” Credence sighed into his neck. “In a minute.”

Percival laughed and decided to give him all the time he needed.

//

Though the next day was full of the same fruitless searches and frustrations, Percival could not be phased. Even the hauling in of a suspected smuggler with a foul attitude didn't irritate him the way it normally would; his thoughts were preoccupied with the idea of returning home to Credence. Spending the night listening to him speak enthusiastically about what he's read, asking a thousand questions about the nature of magic and wizardry, eating a meal not half-heartedly conjured just for the sake of sustenance... His life had meaning now that it had been lacking before. There was MACUSA before, but the only thing more precious than having a career and comfortable life was having another to share it with.

As he exited the building for the day and started off towards his building, Percival remained unaware of the specter looming just far away enough to avoid detection. It stalked him by rooftop, silent as a whisper on the wind. When the auror turned to walk down the side street he lived on, the figure swooped down, apparating him away. Away from Credence, away from his comfort he was dragged, and before he could react, he heard a single word uttered.

“ _Crucio_!”

The pain was instantaneous and acrid, pouring over his body like molten lead. His teeth gritted as he let out a glutteral roar, reaching for his wand to fight back. The burning was overwhelming, magma-hot agony sliding through his veins and into his capillaries. He felt as if he would explode, and try as though he might, his body betrayed him. His wand was taken out of his hand as the figure shoved his writhing body into a dark room.

“ _Petrificus totalus_.”

His body went stiff.

Before he blacked out, he heard an imposing, deep chuckle.

“You'll do nicely, won't you? Be a dear and stay here a while. I've business to attend to.”

 


	7. A Show of Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Percival doesn't return home, panic sets in for the Barebone boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credence's point of view for this one.

Credence paced the length of the apartment intently. Back and forth, back and forth from front hallway to bedroom. It was the second night that Mister Graves had not returned home and his nerves had hit an all time high. A thousand explanations for his possible absence fired through the young man's anxiety riddled mind. Maybe work had been keeping him too late to bother coming home. Maybe he had been hurt on the job and was in the hospital, where Credence wasn't able to go. Other, more frightening thoughts spoke louder than the more reasonable ones.

Maybe Percival was disgusted with him and his behavior and had left for good. Maybe he was dead. Maybe he was seeing someone else and had decided to focus his attention on them. Maybe he needed time away from Credence because he was needy, and emotional, and bad... The young man bit his lip hard enough that the taste of iron flooded his mouth. Had he done something wrong? Was Percival angry with him?

No.

_No_ , that wasn't right!

That couldn't be it. There was nothing that would imply that Graves was angry, or that he would have abandoned him in such a way. This was his apartment, full of his things, that Credence knew he had lived in for a long while. It would make more sense to kick him out, not to leave himself. And if he was disgusted with him, why would they have spent that night in each others arms and had such a lovely morning the next day?

Something must have happened. Something terrible had happened that had prevented Mister Graves from coming back to him, and Credence didn't know how to handle it. He was able to leave the apartment at will, but he hadn't done it since he was taken in by the auror. The only time he had gone anywhere was when Percy had taken him clothes shopping. He never felt the desire to go anywhere because everything he needed was right there, in the comfort of his beloved Mister Graves' apartment.

His beloved... It was a conclusion he'd reached a long time ago. He loved the man more than he had ever been able to love anything in the world, but he'd kept it to himself for fear's sake. He didn't want to risk losing him or being cast out, or really rejected in any way. But now the older man was gone and his love might go forever unspoken. He berated himself mentally, conflicting worries bombarding his mind as he paced. If you love someone, you should let them know – but if you tell them you'll be hurt. You should do everything you can not to please to the man who took you in, but don't irritate him by being around.

Credence whimpered slightly as his teeth dug into his lower lip. He brought a hand up to smooth his hair as he paced and paced, exhausted with fear but unable to stay still. He hadn't slept the night before, waking every half hour in a cold sweat, his unconscious mind plagued with visions of horror and violence. Without Percival there to soothe him there was no fighting the dreams. He would soon be back to where he started, living in the New Salem Philanthropic Society's headquarters, sleeping only really when exhaustion took him down.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was one o'clock in the morning now, and he wasn't back yet. Credence went into the bedroom and pulled out clothing for himself for the morning. He needed to know what had happened to his man, for better or for worse. If he was hurt, he would help him. If he didn't want him anymore, Credence would go away. If he had died somehow... The thought made his stomach turn.

One way or another, he would find out what had happened.

//

From five in the morning until five at night Credence sat on the steps at the entrance of the Woolworth building, waiting and watching. So many people came and went but not one of them was who he was looking for. He was hungry, sad, and exhausted, but the thought of returning to the empty apartment without Mister Graves was one that made tears well up in his eyes. He managed to keep them at bay. No one wanted to see a grown man weeping openly, and it was the first time in years he had gone so long without being called a rude name or pushed around.

By six o'clock, the young man was positively dejected. If one of the wizards could see his spirit, he was sure it would be gray. It was the only way to describe the feeling; gray like an overcast day, devoid of sunlight and hope. By seven, he leaned against the railing leading up to the building but no longer really watched for anything. There was no reason.

Midway through the hour he was jolted out of his fog by the sight of him.

Mister Graves had exited the building. His Mister Graves!

Scrambling to stand, Credence stared at him, hoping he wasn't upset to find him waiting there for him. He had just been so scared that something had happened to him... He would explain it all when he approached. He wouldn't care if he was scolded, so long as it was Percy doing the scolding.

His brows furrowed when Graves walked right past him, not even acknowledging his presence. He had never felt such heartache. What had he done wrong to deserve such treatment? Scold him, yell at him, even strike him – but to be completely ignored was a dagger to the heart, cold and bitter. Credence opened his mouth to speak but closed it quickly, shaking his head. He couldn't handle it. He moved to follow him, hoping he would just go back to the apartment where they could discuss this.

He followed Percival from a distance as he went in the opposite direction, wringing his hands nervously.

It was down a dark side street that he was shoved against a brick wall roughly, brown eyes staring at his face intently.

“Why are you following me?” He hissed in a tone he had never before taken with Credence. The coldness in his heart spread at the interrogatory nature of his words.

“I-I ju-just wanted to know what was wrong...” Credence bumbled, eyes filling with tears as he felt something against his neck. Percival's wand pushed against his throat.

“... Oh.” He looked over his face, and Credence gave a gasp as he felt something even stranger.

It was like the folds of his brain were being pushed through as the man stared at him, an interrogation without words. It was unpleasant, and Credence struggled to shy from his grip. He wanted it to stop. It felt wrong, like a violation, and all he could do was to shove the man away bodily, trying to find a way to close his mind off from the invasive procedure. A smirk formed across Graves' lips, twinkling in his eyes.

“Credence... my boy.” He mumbled. There was no affection to it. Something sinister had crept into his mannerisms, something wrong and different.

This was not his Mister Graves.

“What happened to you? Where have you been?” Credence brought his hands up to his chest, holding himself slightly, terror beginning to take hold of his form.

“I've been busy, **my boy**... Not to worry.” Even the way he spoke was off, like there was an accent he was trying to be rid of. The endearment that Credence usually loved to hear came across bitter, hissed.

“I couldn't help but worry.” Credence mumbled. He wanted to ask why he had been gone so long, why he hadn't at least checked in, but instinct told him that this man was not the one that he loved. He had been taken over by something.

He racked his brain trying to figure out how this could have happened. He had read a number of books in the last two weeks about various wizarding things, but nothing that would allow someone to take possession of a persons body. And at that point it was difficult to think straight with the imposter leering at him.

“I was just looking at new places, my boy. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, don't you think?” The man purred his words.

“New places? How come?” He asked, trying to get information from him – something, anything to tell him what had happened.

“Never you mind your pretty little head about that. Care to come with me and take a look? I think you'll like it... my boy.” Each time he spoke the possessive it made Credence's skin crawl in a way he never thought it would.

“Of course, Sir.” He gave a little smile. His use of the respectful prefix was intentional. Since the first day they had lived together Percival refused to let him call him Sir. He said that they were equals, and that he would no longer accept Credence putting himself down by calling him Sir all the time.

“Mm. Follow me, then.” The false Graves smirked, walking out in front of him.

The lack of correction cemented it in Credence's mind. This man had done something terrible to his lover and was now posing as him. Maybe the people at his work would be fooled, but not Credence. He knew him better than that. He knew him too intimately to be taken in by such a poor representation of the man who had won his heart and saved his life. Whatever had happened to Percival, Credence was now determined to find out. Anger welled up inside him, rousing the beast that dwelt within his breast. The parasite, his Obscurus, felt his anger and fear rising and fed on it, devouring his pain and multiplying it as he followed the man in silence.

He was led to a row of houses by the East River. He knew the neighborhood. He was never allowed to go there to hand out leaflets until he was older because the matron of the Barebone family had told him the place was full of sinners that would try to take him in. He had always been curious about it, but assumed she had her reasons for her thoughts on the place. Now, in the dark of night, following a person he didn't know, he almost understood her reasoning. It was imposing, the buildings too high and thin, in disrepair.

“Right through here, my boy. New place is much nicer, you'll see.” Fake Percival chuckled gruffly in a way that was too unlike the real Graves to be real. When his Graves laughed, it was light and boyish.

“Of course Sir. I didn't know you wanted to move.” Credence made light conversation, keeping his voice steady through some act of God.

“Everyone likes a change of pace sometimes. The old place was getting stuffy and this place has more charm to it. It's more... rustic. Needs some work, but that's no issue.” Graves led him up the stairs and into an apartment.

The place was the very picture of gloom. It looked like the only occupants were rats, a thick layer of dust and grime coating all of the areas where foot traffic did not often go. The building creaked and groaned under its own weight. Everything about it was as gray as he had felt earlier that day, and when the door was shut behind Credence he had the distinct feeling that if he did not act, this man would destroy him.

“So you're an interesting creature, aren't you? How long were you out there waiting?” False Graves asked, one hand in his jacket like some faux Napoleon.

“All day. Since the early hours. I was very worried... I'm happy to see that you're okay.” He gave a warm smile, hoping his bubbling emotions beneath the surface weren't somehow betrayed in his expression.

“So devoted you are. Tell me, Credence – how deep does that devotion lie?” The question was cryptic and made him wonder where this conversation would lead.

“Very deep, Sir... I owe everything to you.” He mumbled. “Why are you asking such things?”

“Just as a refresher. Loyalty means everything to me, you know.” He returned, moving to the kitchen.

Credence's ears picked up a noise. It was a small one, but he heard it clearly; years of living in a rickety old church had fine tuned his ability to pick up strange noises in old buildings. This noise was a moan. A moan of pain buried against something soft. His heart leapt into his throat instantly. If his Mister Graves was there.. It was behind that door. Moving to it, he pressed an ear against it. The moans were louder, and a voice, muffled but present, was trying to speak.

“... And just what do you think you'll find in there, my boy?” A small burst of air ruffled his growing hair as the false Graves apparated at his side, wand once again at his neck.

“What's in there, Sir?” He looked back at the man.

“It's of no consequence to you, Credence. You're bound to get hurt looking into things that don't concern you.” His response was quick and patronizing.

“I-I think it does concern me.” Credence shot back, damning the fear that crept into his voice. He had no idea what power this man had, to be capable of capturing someone as skillful as Percy.

“You've gotten bold, haven't you? Fine – take a look, my boy.” The grin on his lips was sickening. The man flicked his wand, and the lock on the door clicked.

Pushing it open, he instantly felt the Obscurus grow within him as a new wave of noxious rage and anguish coursed through his blood, hands beginning to quake at the sight. Percival, the real Percival, laid on the floor, bound and gagged, a stream of tears flowing steady down the sides of his red face, body twitching with supernatural pain.

“If only you had just been a good boy and minded your business. I could have made use of you, Credence. I could have made you far more powerful than this pitiful creature ever could.” The man behind him hissed.

“Why... What have you done to him!?” Credence whispered, voice choking in his throat.

“A simple curse. I'm sure he hasn't taught you anything as useful. What does he have you doing? Lighting up a wand? Levitating things? I'm feeling merciful, Credence... Pledge yourself to me, and you'll have a place in this world far surpassing anything this wretch could have given you. I would have a task for you to prove yourself, of course, but I think you would be able to accomplish it.”

On the floor, Percival met his eyes, pleading with him. Credence's mind was a haze. Did the mystery man know about his ailment? Did he just think that Credence was a young wizard living outside of wizarding society? All the while he stared at his lover on the floor. The thought of him laying there, bound and tortured, was nearly too much to bear. His stomach churned, bile raising in his throat as his chest began to heave with the effort of breathing while so overwhelmed.

“Credence... I won't wait much longer for an answer. I'm not a very patient man.” The person behind him growled low in his throat.

No longer did he feel any fear. The only thing left was rage, pure and red.

“... _Crucio_!” The man snapped, and from his wand came a stream of crimson pain.

Credence supposed the man didn't know as much as he'd worried he knew. The pain that pushed through his body and coated his every nerve did not drop him down. It filled his insides, not with molten ache, but with purpose. It fed his beast, and as he struggled to turn and face the man, he was vaguely aware of his body losing shape. His limbs creaked and jerked with the effort of movement, hands twitching at his chest, the muscles of his face fidgeting wildly. His lips parted as he fought for breath, staring at the now dumbstruck man in his lovers body.

“ _Crucio_!” The man doubled his efforts, eyes widening with curious horror.

And suddenly, Credence was no more. There was only the Obscurus, violent and righteous, sweeping up the man and battering him in a flurry of black vitriol. Unearthly screaming, weeping, emanated from the cloud as it pummeled the wizard, carrying him out of the back wall of the apartment building.

It was the very manifestation of a lifetime of pain trying with all its might to destroy the thing that threatened to take away the only thing its host ever held dear. A fog with claws that ripped and tore at the disgusting creature that had caused his lover's light to dim.

Only when the beast was satisfied was Credence returned, shaking violently, weeping with wild abandon.

There was a body at his side, unmoving and gray, wearing the now shredded clothing of the man he loved.

But his face had changed. He was grotesque to behold, blue eyes opened wide in horror, blond hair matted to his forehead.

Credence didn't care.

He had no energy. The Obscurus had sapped it from him, but he needed to help Mister Graves... Somehow. He removed the wand from the hands of the imposter and trudged with leaden legs towards the front of the building.

Climbing the stairs was a monumental task that he nearly failed at, missing steps and whimpering with effort.

The apartment, once he came to it, was destroyed. A hole had been blown into the back wall and the building, which was already unstable, creaked and shuddered with the effort of keeping itself up. It would not last long – Credence forced his legs to work, moving to the empty room in which Percy was kept, tearing off the gag and leaning down to kiss his swollen lips.

“Percy... Percy... Mister Graves, please say you're okay!” He cried, trembling fingers stroking his cheeks.

“Credence! We have to get out of here – please, the ropes!” Percival had returned the kiss, but pulled away, turning to show him the knotwork. It was haphazard at best; he assumed there was some sort of curse that the man had cast to keep him in place and the ropes were a backup. He made short work of them.

As soon as he was able, he took the wand in one hand and Credence's hand with the other. The building groaned as pieces began to fall off of it. He was forced into a run, moving towards the gap in the wall... And suddenly, he was on the ground. His stomach lurched as it always did when Percy apparated with him.

“Where is he, Credence? The man who posed as me – did you kill him?” He asked, urgency in his voice.

“I – I think – I saw him over there... I think... I think I killed him.” He whispered, shame creeping into his voice. Graves, to his surprise, grinned and cupped his cheeks in hand, kissing him long and hard. He felt even weaker than before, knees buckling as he gave the most gentle of giggles.

“Credence... You've done something amazing. That man... I'll explain later. We need to get his body away from here, and I need to fix this building before the Aurors lose their minds. Can you help me, Credence? Pull him away from here while I do that.” Percival asked once he pulled away.

Credence found new strength in the confidence that Percival had in him, running to the prone body beside the building. It took immense concentration, but he was able to move him all of twenty feet before he saw his man working on the building. Sitting on the ground, Credence silently watched him work. Wonder was evident in his expression as the building was pieced together quickly, prevented from collapsing through Percival's efforts.

Everything was going to be okay.

 


	8. Deliberations and Conclusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival and Credence bring Grindlewald to MACUSA headquarters, where they await judgement on the events leading to this point.

The trip back to MACUSA's headquarters was swift; it was a risky apparation, but necessary in order to avoid the eyes of No-Maj's who wandered the streets. Percival's body still buzzed with pain, dehydration and hunger causing aches he had never felt before as someone who had never been destitute. Nearly two days trapped in the cruel talons of the Cruciatus curse had taken a deep toll on his body and mind. The fact that Credence had taken the curse and powered through it in order to save his life was something that he might never be able to fathom.

“You've never been in here... but now is the perfect time. The Council should still be in for the time being, and the President as well... This man is... he was one of the most dangerous wizards in recorded history.” Percival gave him the highly condensed version of what Grindlewald was, still dumbstruck by the events that had just occurred.

“He... he was?” Credence's eyes were wide.

“Yes, my boy... You very well may have just prevented a war.” Percival's voice was heavy with pride. Though Credence had acted only because of Percival's condition, he knew that this monumental achievement would be enough to, perhaps, save him from the same fate that every Obscurial in history had met. Now, truly, they had a chance at happiness. He only hoped the President would agree.

The moment they stepped through the front doors they were met by a flurry of activity. Percival snapped that they needed an audience with the President and the rest of the Council. Within moments they were escorted, Gellert in tow, to the meeting room. The dark wizard was laid upon the mosaic floor, and Percival looked up to the President. Whispers had begun between the members of the council, but hushed instantly when Percival began to speak.

“Madam President... For the last two days, I had been held captive in a building by the East River, bound by curses and tortured by Crucio. I was taken by surprise when I left work two days ago, and was locked away. The man who took me captive lay before you... Gellert Grindlewald, in the flesh. He had been posing as me using Polyjuice potions, likely keeping me alive only for the materials needed to brew it. I was given every indication that he intended to pose as me for a long time.” He spoke with gravity. Gasps filled the room.

“Aurors – verify this claim. Call a healer to check him as well!” Seraphina Picquery demanded. The message was relayed, and within moments several people had appeared. The crowd surrounding the body grew as the dark wizard was examined.

“Madam President, it's... It's really him.” The examination was brief and concise. The healer that was called frowned softly as she checked the body over.

“There is still a trace of life in him, Madam President, but it's very faint.” She told the President, who tried to bury her shock with an expression of dignity and grace.

“Aurors, take him to the cells. I want no less than four aurors guarding him at all times. Whatever small bit of life he has left in him he could easily use to make another escape, and I will **not** allow the United States to be the reason he's still causing mayhem.” She demanded. The aurors and healer dutifully bowed, removing the man from the chamber.

Credence stood close to Percival, unable to look up at the Council. Graves could practically feel the anxiety pouring off of him, fearful that his presence in the building would cause some issue. He placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, smiling fondly.

“Now, Auror Graves. I suspect there are many things I don't know about that I should have been made aware of before this point. Now is the time to tell me. You've done a great service to the country, but I hope there were no unnecessary risks taken.” She said, expression dubious.

“As Director of Magical Security, every precaution was taken to minimize any associated risk, but there was indeed risk taken. Whether or not they were unnecessary falls to you to decide. Madam President, I would like to introduce you to Credence Barebone... The Obscurial that tore through Market Street weeks ago resides within him. He has lived a life full of pain that none of us could possibly imagine, but still lives. For the last two weeks, I've been training him to harness his magic. He is the only reason I am alive, and the reason that Gellert Grindlewald is now in custody.” Percival plunged right into the matter at hand. He needed to bring it up while the Council was still reeling over news of Grindlewald. Murmurs once again took over the chamber, skepticism and fear clouding the atmosphere of the room.

“Forgive me, Auror Graves, but I find it difficult to believe that this young man could be an Obscurial. He's far too old... No Obscurial has ever lived past ten years old.” The President spouted off that old statistic, staring at Credence. He fidgeted in his spot, body unconsciously shifting closer to Percival.

“No child before him that bore an Obscurus was ever so strong, Madam President. He was orphaned at the age of two, and taken in by the New Salemers – the woman who adopted him beat him constantly, forced his magic inward to dormancy. I will never understand how he was able to survive, but I'm endlessly thankful that he did.” Percival told her.

“This is the New Salem boy? The one that Tina Goldstein was banned from interaction with? Why were you interfering with that group?” She stared down at the man, irritation in her voice.

“Mostly curiosity, Madam President. He had always seemed different from the rest of them. While his mother and sisters would preach, he never seemed interested in that life. I spoke to him when I shouldn't have, yes, but I spoke to him as if I were a No-Maj. He had no indication that I was anything but. I visited with him several times before he told me that his mother was a witch... I researched into the idea and found it to be true. His mother's name was Lillian Woodcroft, and she was murdered in 1910. And though I cannot prove it, I believe that Mary Lou Barebone's brother may be his father; and that Mary Lou murdered her when she found out. Shortly after I found this out, his Obscurus broke free. I put the pieces together and discovered that he was the one possessed by it... And I took him in, to free him from that woman. I've been training him ever since.” Percival explained as concisely as he was able to. He didn't mention that Credence had resisted obliviation. That wasn't necessary.

“And it was his Obscurus that defeated Grindlewald? Why was this not brought to the attention of the Council before?” She asked, thoughtful.

“Yes, Madam President. Grindlewald attempted to lure him, and he followed because he had been wearing my face... I did not inform the Council out of fear, truthfully. Because of his breach of the Statute, I feared that he would be punished, despite being unaware of the actual existence of our world. When I began to train him, the Obscurus stopped bothering him as much... I think that with proper training he can overcome it. I would wager my life on it, for him.” Percival looked to the young man who stood at his side, taking his hand. “I will accept any punishment you have for me because of my indiscretions, but I will not accept for him to be punished.”

“Very noble of you, Auror Graves. But if you don't mind, I'd like to hear from the boy now. Boy – Credence, was it? Is what Auror Graves says true? Are you an Obscurial – and were you unaware of your actions weeks ago? Is Graves' training helping to keep the parasite at bay?” She grilled the young man, who lifted his head to look at her.

“Yes... Madam President. Everything he says is true. That monster was me, but I couldn't control it. It was like a demon inside of me itching to get out each time mama was cruel to me. But since I came to live with Mister Graves, it's been so much better. I'm good at the things he taught me, and I.. I think it helps to make the Obscurus smaller. It feeds on my anger and pain, but when I use magic it has somewhere to go that won't hurt anyone. I don't want to hurt anybody, ever – I just want to be happy... And when I'm with Mister Graves it's like seeing sunshine for the first time in my life.” Credence spoke up. He didn't stumble, his words didn't break. He spoke with heavy emotion, squeezing the older man's hand.

“And when he went missing, did you lose control of it then?” Picquery asked, watching him.

“No ma'am. I went to wait for him outside of this building... I was scared he'd been hurt and I had no way of knowing, so I waited the entire day outside of here. When I finally saw him I knew something was wrong. He didn't sound the same, didn't act the same. Mister Graves has never been rude to me, never ignored me the way he did... So I asked about him. Then he told me he had gotten a new apartment and led me to the riverside, that neighborhood I was never allowed to go to when I was a child. I heard something in a locked room and I knew it had to be him... He tried to put a curse on me, but that just fed the Obscurus enough to let it out. All of my anger and hurt – it just threw itself at him. When I woke up there was a hole in the building and he was all grey and hollow looking.” He explained, the hand in his providing the comfort he needed to get through the story.

“I see... You're a very gifted young man, Credence Barebone, and you've taken something horrible and negative and used it in a way none of us could have imagined. The story is remarkable – but as they say, the proof of the pudding is in the eating, and you've proved it by bringing us the most wanted man in the world. We owe you a great debt, Credence... Would the two of you allow us to deliberate for a few minutes before a decision is reached? I need to hear from the Council.” She smiled with warmth at Credence, who returned it.

Percival smiled as well, pulling the younger man out of the chamber. When the door creaked shut, he wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace, kissing his temple.

“I'm so proud of you, Credence. Whatever happens once those doors open back up, I need you to remember that. I'm so proud... And I love you, Credence. Truly.” He told him. He didn't know what the outcome would be, and he wanted there to be no regrets once that day was over.

“Mister Graves... I love you too. So much.” Credence returned, arms squeezing around him.

For a long while they stood there, wrapped up in one anothers arms, eyes closed and savoring the moment. Only when the chamber door swung open did Percival let go, hand resting in Credence's. Together, they walked back in.

“Percival Graves and Credence Barebone. Step forward.” The President said. She stood at their level now, hands clasped behind her back.

“We have come to a decision we think will be satisfactory for all parties. Auror Graves, for withholding pertinent information, you will receive a months suspension from work without pay. For involving yourself with a family that was off limits due to their status as a hate group, additional two months. For providing new insight as to the nature of Obscurials and protecting the city by keeping one at bay, you will receive an award of 1000 Dragots. For teaching without a proper license, you will attend training courses during your suspension to certify you in order to properly teach.” She informed him. Percival fought hard to hold back laughter. The amount he was awarded was enough to live on for six months, easily.

“Credence Barebone. For meritorious service to the City and all of wizarding kind, you will receive a wand made to your liking and a permit to conduct magic. Because of your age, you are unable to attend Ilvermorny... So you will instead attend courses here in our training department, and once Mister Graves is certified, with him, since you two already seem to have built a rapport. All materials needed will be provided, along with a stipend of 200 Dragots every two months for any unrelated expenses until your training is complete. Graves, from now on, you are solely responsible for Credence. You are to act as his guardian, and any issues that he may cause for the next five years, you will claim sole responsibility for.” She continued, attention turning to Credence.

“Do you both find this agreeable?” She asked, the ghost of a smile crossing her lips.

“Yes, Madam President... I believe we do.” Percival smirked, looking to the younger man.

“Absolutely, Madam President... Thank you so much!” Credence's voice was a happy squeak, hand squeezing and relaxing rhythmically around Percival's.

“You're welcome. The two of you are dismissed; if you require medical attention, there are healers waiting outside. Auror Graves, I expect a full write up of these events by the end of your suspension. I will also require that both of you provide a report about the Obscurus so that we can all try to understand a little better.” She bowed her head.

Forgetting every bit of pain and terror that had taken place in the last two days, Percival left the chamber with Credence. Finally, all was right with the world, and the universe finally seemed to make sense. Cupping Credence's cheek in his hand, he smiled at him. The jubilance in his eyes, the unrestrained joy in his grin, the blush in his cheek all made the aching in Percival's body disappear.

Credence had said being with Percival was like seeing sunshine for the first time.

But when Percival gazed at the younger man, he saw the endearing light of a starry night, the mysterious glow of the moon, and the burning radiance of the early morning sun all at once.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we've reached the end of the story.
> 
> I am actually in the process of writing an epilogue, but it's entirely up to my readers if I choose to finish/post it or not. 
> 
> If you're interested in one last chapter (that will be entirely fluff/smut/cuteness), feel free to contact me either here or on tumblr at wittygaypuns.tumblr.com . Even if you think it's fine the way it is feel free to tell me so!
> 
> Either way, I appreciate every comment, kudos, subscription and bookmark I've received. Feedback means everything to an author.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months have passed since Grindlewald's incarceration, and the couple has reason to celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's that epilogue I promised! Fluff and smut, in as short a form as I could manage... so over 5k words.
> 
> A quick note; I'm dropping some queer history on all of ya and I encourage you to look into the history of the late 20s in NYC; it wasn't all that bad a time for us happy homos, with a thriving underground scene and a public that was more concerned with gangsters and booze then who you were interested in. :D
> 
> I want to thank you all once again for reading. It's meant the world to me that this was received so well, and that I was actually able to finish something lengthy in such a short time. 
> 
> All of my love. <3

“Is it really okay? I thought we weren't allowed to be around No-Majs, Percy.” Credence mumbled skeptically. He fiddled with the collar of his suit. It was lovely, made custom for the young man by a tailor in the Village. Credence favored less masculine cuts, and, in his words, 'happier' colors. His shoulders didn't look as broad in it, the waist of his coat pinned tight to give the illusion of slightly wider hips. The color was a delicate pastel blue that melded well with the darker blue of Percival's suit.

“Credence, have I ever led you astray? It'll be fine. We're just seeing a show and believe me, no one in the audience or on stage is going to be paying us any mind. Well, they might look at you, because you look absolutely **stunning** , but that's neither here nor there, and I plan on playing the role of ridiculously overprotective lover.” Percival brought a hand up to smooth down Credence's unruly hair; it had grown to a length that Graves found to be perfect. It curled just slightly at the ends, making him look a bit boyish.

“You're right, you're right... I'm just nervous naturally, I guess.” Credence gave a smile that, despite their time together, retained some of the timidity that he had when they had first met.

“I know you are, darling.” He chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss those full lips that he adored.

He kept the kiss gentle. They had a schedule to adhere to and Percival tended to get wrapped up in the softness of his lips... and the sharp lines of his jaw... and the way those long fingers always managed to curl into his shirt and hair in a way that was both alluring and endearing... and the way that Credence was always so instantly responsive to his affections, body melding against his in a way that was so perfect that Percival was sure that nature intended for them to be together.

“Percy... We should go.” Credence mumbled against him. They were still so close that Percival could feel his lips curling into a happy little smile.

“Ah, yes, right.” Percival smirked, clearing his throat and leaning away from the younger man.

It had been roughly seven months since they first moved in with one another, and it had gotten to the point where Graves couldn't quite remember how he managed before then. The youth managed the home, his training in the magical arts, and the majority of Percival's life with ease. He found himself dreading the day when Credence chose to enter magical society as a full fledged wizard, taking a job that would require him to focus on things **other** than Graves. Then he would have to fend for himself at least a bit, and the thought made him cringe inwardly. But he tried his best not to think so selfishly. He had never brought up the possibility of Credence just staying at home and allowing Percival to continue supporting them both despite thinking of it often.

Maybe Credence would get a job with similar hours to Graves, so that he wouldn't have to return home to an empty apartment. Where Percival was once a solitary creature, he now could no longer fathom spending his nights alone. He was entirely under Credence's thrall and didn't care who knew. It took no charms, no jinxes or potions to sway Percival, where the younger man was involved. All it took was a simple look, a gently voiced question, or even a raised brow and he was putty to be molded by Credence's desires.

Any worries about the Obscurus that made its home inside the younger man had long since drifted off. There had been no re-occurrence of the parasite since that night months before. It didn't have much to feed on with Credence training his magic steadily and Percival careful not to thrust the younger man into anything too intense. He made sure never to make his lover never felt like he was doing something wrong, or that he was bad in any way. They bickered now and again, like any couple, and Credence had learned gradually that it was nothing serious and came from a place of affection. The first few times they had butted heads, though, Credence had reacted rather poorly, reverting to some of his old behaviors that made Percival feel like an absolute monster... He would begin to cower, his words would break. Graves found that it took only gentle words and tender touches to mend that. The reassurance that Percival loved him and that he had done nothing wrong. The Barebone boy had actually learned to give a little sass back to Percival, something he absolutely adored.

Opening the door of the new car for him, Percival smiled. Another indicator of how easily he bent to please the other man. Credence enjoyed being able to wander, but apparation made his stomach ache. Each time he would try it himself or go with Percival, he would remain nauseous for hours. With a car there was no such issue and they could go where they pleased. It was a beautiful beast of a machine, roomy and black with chrome detailing and leather seats.

“I'm so glad this suit is so light. It's getting hot out quickly...” Credence hummed softly as he settled into his seat.

“That it is. That's one of the perks of being a magic user, though. Much easier to keep cool with our charms.” Percival chuckled as he got into his own seat, starting up the car.

“I certainly do enjoy that. The church was horrible in late spring and summer. I had a hard enough time sleeping without sweating all the way down to my bones.” Credence made a little face, nose wrinkling. Percival had a difficult time focusing on the road at times with his tendency to watch the younger man instead.

“I can't imagine. That place looked deplorable enough without thinking of how temperature must have affected it.” He chuckled, focusing on their path.

“Mmm... Percy, are you going to tell me what sort of show we're going to see? You know I don't much like surprises.” Credence looked to the older man, who smirked secretively.

“I won't tell you, no. You'll find out when we get there. I think you'll like it. Afterwards we can go out for a nice dinner...” Percival promised with a little smile.

“Can we go to Queenie's place?” Credence looked to him. Several months past, Queenie Goldstein had quit MACUSA to open a little restaurant. It was warm and felt like home the moment you walked through the door, and they'd already been there several times.

“You don't want to go somewhere more fancy?” Percival asked.

“Why would I want to go somewhere fancy? I like Miss Queenie, she's kind and a good cook.” Credence looked puzzled.

“We go there plenty, Credence... I just want to treat you tonight.” Percival moved his right hand from the wheel to Credence's thigh, smiling.

“It isn't some holiday I don't know about, is it?” Credence bit his lip lightly the moment Graves' large hand settled on his leg.

“... Credence. My love. It's your birthday. Don't you remember me talking about this?” Percival blinked, looking to the younger man as he found a spot to park in. The blank look on Credence's face answered the question for him.

“... Oh. I suppose I'd forgotten again.” He offered a little smile, hand moving to Graves' briefly to squeeze it. “I never really made much of my birthday before.”

“That's alright; we can make up for lost time, then... If you aren't enjoying yourself midway through the show we can go right home, if you like.” Percival assured him.

“Well, that's fair. I... don't want to ruin your time though.” Credence was hesitant, as he often was. Often times he just needed a little convincing, a little sweet-talking, which Percival was more than happy to do.

“Would it help if I told you what we were going to see?” Percival managed to sound a little put off, though he wasn't in the slightest. Credence only half-smiled and nodded a little.

“Well... Remember a few months ago when we talked about people you saw that one time when you were younger? The speakeasies in Harlem and Greenwich where the men dressed like women and vice versa? Well, we're headed to Harlem.” Percival alluded.

Credence's face lit up. The conversation came after a No-Maj newspaper reported a police crackdown on a club in Harlem for serving up booze and cross-dressers. The younger man said that it reminded him of a time that he once stayed out later in the night then he was supposed to, long enough to catch sight of the men and women who came alive in the night time. Women dressed handsomely in sharp suits and slicked back hair, men as pretty as can be in slinky dresses and feathered headpieces. They held hands in public, laughed and were proud despite societal pressures to behave a certain way.

Credence had told Percival that he couldn't take his eyes off of them, but was too young and too terrified to follow them. He had been enchanted, an ideal settling into his mind that they were the ultimate symbol of freedom. Nothing that anyone could say to them made a difference when they had each other. The younger man had said he often thought about them when things went badly at the almshouse, praying that one day he would be able to be so self-determined. It was a community that Percival knew little about, considering it was part of the No-Maj world, but the starry look in the younger man's eyes when he spoke of them made him do a little investigation.

What he found was that he boundaries on gender and sexuality were looser than they had once been among No-Maj's. In New York, no one much cared who you were into. Prohibition had been a boon to populations once maginalized; they found their place in the booming underworld that the ban on alcohol had created. There weren't such prejudices in the magical community. The only real discrimination was based on blood, and that was going out of style quickly.

But it was important to Credence to see this side of the No-Maj world which had given him some sort of hope when younger, Percival thought, and so it was important to him as well.

“Y-you're sure it's okay that we come here? I don't want us to get in trouble but... Oh, thank you Percy!” He grinned. It was a lovely sight, one that Percival now cherished; when Credence grinned, his entire body went into it. His shoulders lifted, his eyes went wider, his hands clasped together in excitement. Every part of his being radiated perfect, infectious joy when he grinned.

Percival returned the look, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“Of course it's okay. Anything for you, my boy. Now come, the show should be starting soon and I want us to get a decent seat. I warn you, this might be a little... scandalous. More so then you're used to.” The Auror warned; he'd heard that these balls could get raunchy.

“I'll try not to get too embarrassed.” Credence replied, opening his door and stepping out in one quick motion, eager to go in.

Smirking, Percival exited the car as well, offering an arm to him. Taking it, they entered the club.

The place was vibrant, full of life, music, and laughter. Couples sat in anticipation of the show, singles flirted at the bar. Everywhere Percival looked there was a new sight. Imposing looking ladies with beautifully tailored suits and high hats and canes, statuesque men wearing expensive looking gowns and jewels. Somewhere, there was a jazz band playing, and the gravelly contralto of a blues songstress filling the building with tales of secret affairs.

Credence held his arm a little tighter as they walked in. When he looked over, expecting to see his usual crowd-induced anxiety, he was met instead by a look of wonder. Percival was being held on to merely to serve as his seeing eye while he took in the sights. Not that Graves could blame him. Everything was so flashy and exuberant, and so less... restrained then the rest of polite society. It was exactly the type of place that Percival would likely have to crack down on as an auror, though for vastly different reasons.

Percival found them a table close enough to the stage but far enough that they could go unbothered by the more bold members of the crowd. The two received a number of looks, but each and every one was free of judgment and one even clapped when Percival smirked and kissed Credence's cheek. When someone came around to collect their tickets, two drinks were slid on to the table, both smelling strongly of liquor.

Credence blinked and lifted the drink to his nose, sniffing it cautiously and immediately pulling a face.

“Oh, it smells like turpentine!” He squeaked gently. Percival chuckled, pulling their seats closer together so that he could wrap an arm around him.

“It's liquor. You can try it, you know. I'll keep you safe and make sure you don't drink too much.” Percival encouraged. It would be an interesting sight. He had wondered here and there what the younger man would be like drunk... if he could hold it at all. His stomach was sensitive when it came to apparation, but not with food.

“M...” Credence began, and caught himself. He had almost said 'Ma', a habit that was slow to dissipate. “Mary Lou always raged against liquor.”

“No surprise there, my boy. But she's not your burden to bear anymore. If you feel like trying it, go ahead.” Percival leaned in, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Maybe I'll try a little, while the show is on.” Credence looked down at the amber liquid, swirling the booze in the glass, ice clinking against the sides.

Percival just chuckled, leaning back in his seat as the lights dimmed and music slowed to a halt. The show was beginning.

It was a fanciful event, each act more ridiculous or spectacular then the last. The performances ranged from singing solo, to singing in groups, to short and rauncy skits, to incredible high energy dancing... All while the performers were dressed as the opposite gender, somehow managing to maintain their looks throughout, despite the muggy atmosphere in the place. Percival downed his drink sometime before the end of the first half, cheering when something particularly marvelous happened. During the break between sets to give the performers time to reapply, change, and prepare, Credence looked at his glass.

“Okay, I think I'll try it now. Just a sip.” He nodded firmly. His cheeks were red, a bit of sweat on his brow. He took that sip, and immediately pulled a face, set the glass down, and flapped a hand about, making a noise.

“Oh, that's just awful! It tastes as bad as it smells and it **burns**! Why does anyone drink that stuff?” Credence mumbled, wide eyed.

“Most people drink it to get drunk, as far as I know. It makes you feel good.” Percival smiled. He wasn't much of a drinker himself, a tiny bit buzzed from just the one drink.

“Explains why she never liked it. She didn't want anyone to feel good, ever.” Credence muttered, and looked back to him. “Do you want it? I think I'll keep adhering to Prohibition.”

“Sure. Are you enjoying the show?” Percival chuckled.

“It's amazing! When that group all started dancing the same way... I've never seen anyone work with such coordination in such a small space!” The younger man grinned.

“It really is. I think this was a good choice... These No-- these folks really know how to put on a show.” Percival corrected himself. The term was automatic, but he figured they weren't in the right place to go using it.

“It's wonderful, Percy. Thank you so much.” Credence leaned over, emboldened for just a moment, kissing his lips lightly. The kiss was only broken when the second half of the show began, grabbing his attention once more.

It was just as remarkable as the first. They had all clearly put a sizable effort into this event; according to Percival's sources it was the biggest ball of the year apart from the one at Christmastime. He polished off the second drink. The scale tipped just slightly from sober to inebriated. He felt good, light, and full of adoration, finding himself watching Credence rather than the remainder of the show.

Soon the show was over, and Credence stood up to clap with an enthusiasm that the rest of the crowd soon picked up. Percival smirked, shaking his head and standing with him, clapping as well. He leaned in to the younger man, kissing his cheek.

“Dinner?” He asked, wanting to beat the crowd out the door... If anyone intended to leave after the show, at least.

“I'm not very hungry... but can we stop at Queenie's?” Credence leaned into him heavily, head dropping to his shoulder, looking up at the older man through his lashes.

“You know I can't say no to that face. I'd figure out a way to pull the moon from the sky for you if you asked it.” He mused to him, arm slipping around his shoulder to sway with him for a moment.

“I know you would, and that's why I would never ask... because then no one else would be able to enjoy it.” Credence said simply, enjoying the open affection.

“How'd you get so sweet?” Percival chuckled, patting his arm lightly. “Come on, then – let's beat out this crowd.”

Pulling away, the couple made their way back out and into the car, and were soon on their way to Queenie's place back in the East Village. The entire way Credence gushed excitedly about the show, and how he would be telling Queenie all about it, and how, if Percy liked, they could definitely go again because it was just wonderful. Percival listened, happy to only interject here and there with some tangent that would set Credence off on another ramble about it. This was a far cry from the young man who cringed at the slightest hint of a raised voice, the man who could barely get through a sentence without tripping on his words.

“... I'm so proud of you, Credence. I don't think I tell you that often enough.” Percival said softly, once they came to a stop in front of Queenie's.

“... Proud of me?” Credence looked to him, a little confused.

“You've come such a long way since we first met, my boy... You've come into your own and I... I'm just in awe of you at times. I know it's cheesy but I just can't help but say it.” Percival was acting practically out of character, but blamed that on the moonshine.

“Percy...” Credence mumbled his name softly, color starting to creep into his cheeks. He frowned a little.

“Don't be embarrassed, Credence. I don't often speak from the heart but I never lie about matters of it.” Percival brought a hand over to touch his cheek, thumb brushing over it lightly. Credence's hands went up to hold it there, face nuzzled into his palms affectionately.

“I think I changed my mind about going to see Queenie... Would you mind if we just went home?” He laid a tender kiss to Percival's wrist.

Percival's heart began to pump faster in his chest. Credence was rarely straight forward with his desires, tending towards coyness. Graves had learned to pick up on his subtle messages; the touch of cheek to hand, the kiss, and shirking a visit to his favorite person (aside from Tina, who had been reinstated as Auror and reunited with Credence shortly after Grindlewald's incarceration)... All of these were telltale signs of a thinly concealed lust welling up in the young man.

And who was Graves to deny him?

Smirking a little, Percival started up the car, heading (a little on the fast side) towards their apartment.

The ride home was entirely silent, and the Auror spent it with one hand on the wheel and the other linked with Credence's. No words were necessary, the younger man's desire growing more evident the longer it took, manifested in gentle fidgeting and rhythmic squeezing of his hand in Percival's. The anticipation made it difficult not to pull over and do dreadful things to Credence right in the car. It would be easy enough. It had gotten dark while they were at the show, and there were plentiful side-streets and alleyways to choose from...

Giving a soft grunt, Percival dashed the thought from his mind. There would be something inherently wrong with fucking the younger man in the back seat of the car on his birthday. He deserved better. Were Percival a more romantic man he might have thought to have some candles ready, perhaps some flower petals on the bed.

But, as it were, Graves could only be so thoughtful, and considered it a good thing he was patient enough not to just apparate them directly to the bedroom. The moment they were out of the car and in the building, Percival actually hoisted the slender man into his arms, sprinting while carrying him towards their apartment. Laughing, Credence threw his arms around him, taking the keys from his hand. The younger man showed true team spirit by unlocking and opening the door while Percival kissed a line from his chin to his ear, lingering at each known sensitive spot.

“ _Colloportus_ -” Credence mumbled, wand pulled from the inside of his jacket, form impeccable as he cast the locking charm. The door swung shut and locked, and the younger man dropped the keys.

“You're getting good at that, aren't you?” Percival smirked against his neck. Credence tossed the wand, a lovely eleven inch ceder inlaid with a unicorn hair core, to the couch as they passed it.

“Well, I get enough practice with the way you like to carry me around...” Credence smiled, warmth in his expression and in his body language.

“What can I say? You were meant to be carried, my boy.” Percival laughed, making his way to their bedroom.

The moment the threshold was crossed, Credence fidgeted his way into a different position. He had become adept at using Percival as an anchor with which to guide his body, arms holding the older man's shoulders tight as he shifted to wrap his legs around his waist. Graves guided him, hands slipping under his thighs to support him, fingers squeezing into tight, lean muscled skin. Credence always wanted to be as close as possible, as fast as possible, when the mood struck. His need for touch was nearly insatiable, but Percival tried his best to meet that need.

Turning his back to the bed, Percival backed up into it as his lips were attacked, Credence's kiss fervent and desperate. Percival sat himself down, and together the two made the awkward journey to nudity, two buttons on Credence's dress shirt pulled clear off and cufflinks on Percival's jacket that refused to let go without a fight. They only broke from one another's lips long enough to pull clothing off, gradually backing on to the bed to reach a more suitable position. Their beautiful, expensive suits soon lay scattered around the room.

Percival's fingers had become rather skilled at finding every part of Credence that was extra sensitive, and he used this ability to pull the most delightful sounds from those full lips, playing him like some sort of depraved instrument. Credence was often more passive in bed, easily overwhelmed with sensation and becoming drunk with lust, body arching into the other man's, needy and catlike. Percival could spend hours exploring him, worshiping each peak and valley of his body line... but tonight, Credence didn't seem to have the patience for it, long fingers sliding between them to take hold of Percival's cock, stroking lightly.

“Ah ah – patience, darling. I have to get you ready first, don't I? I haven't eaten much today, after all.” Percival grinned at him, pulling back. Credence's eyes widened.

“Percy! Don't be so lewd...” He chided gently, hands pulling away and body lifting away from his in anticipation of what was to come.

“I don't think you can scold me for being lewd when you're about to sit on my face.” Percival pointed out cheekily, reveling in the way that Credence's face burned pink all the way to his neck. Leaning up, he kissed him again, then tapped his side. The young wizard obediently shifted off of him to turn, presenting himself in a way that sent a jolt of arousal to his already hard cock.

With a quick movement or two, Percival lowered himself back down to the bed, pulling the younger man down against him. Credence gave a little whimper as his cheeks were spread, body quivering slightly. Percival could practically sense his toes curling into the bedsheets around his head as his tongue struck home, lavishing attention on his entrance. He gave a little groan against him as Credence leaned his own head down to lap at the head of his cock, tongue swirling around his slit to collect the precum there.

They mimicked one another unintentionally; when Percival's tongue thrust deeper inside, Credence took more of his length into his mouth. They moaned in sync against one another's most sensitive areas as Credence pushed back against Percival's mouth and he pushed up into Credence's. Only when Percival felt the younger man trembling with need, ass squeezing around him, did he pull away. His fingers squeezed those firm cheeks as he took in a deep breath.

“Oil?” He mumbled, voice deep and gruff.

Mouth pulling off with an obscene pop, Credence leaned to the nightstand to fetch it, uncapping the lubrication with a hand and pouring a bit into the other. A little went a long way with the stuff; Percival had found it at a 'specialty' shop for Wizardkind, a place full of the random and often absurd.. it certainly made things easier. Credence reached his hand back, and Percival coated his fingers with the excess. They prepared each other with the practiced ease that came with frequency; once Credence had gotten more comfortable with his body, his libido had come alive, and Percival was more than happy to indulge in any curiosity he had.

The way Credence rocked into his fingers only made it more difficult for Percival to be patient, especially with his front row seat to the way his hole squeezed, accepting two fingers with little difficulty. It **certainly** didn't help to have the younger mans hands both on his cock, slicking him from tip to base with the lube rhythmically. Giving a little growl, Percival gave his ass a little swat, removing his fingers.

He was overjoyed to find that Credence was just as eager as he was, turning to straddle Percival's hips, one hand settling on his chest. He liked having the younger man on top from time to time, always entranced by the looks of pleasure that passed over his beautiful face. It also let him set the pace, and it was always a surprise what he was in the mood for. Sometimes it was slow and languid, filled with a slow-burning passion, other times it was hot and desperate, the need to be filled and **fucked** taking over the younger mans thoughts.

“I love watching you like this... So lovely.” Percival muttered as his cock was guided to Credence's entrance.

“I – I do to... The way your face looks when I – oh!” Credence gasped as he rocked his hips against his cock, slowly taking him in.

He was always so hot inside, so tight and inviting. He had dreamt of that warmth, and sometimes still did. The way Credence's body accepted the intrusion was something that always made his mind race, the feel of that devastating heat enveloping his body. One hand reached between to take the younger man's length in hand, jerking him slowly as Credence took him in fully. Once fully seated against him, his head fell back, the bulge of his Adam's apple prominent enough that Percival found himself wanting to stroke his fingers over it.

Credence began to rock; he started slow today, the pace shifting from that beginning desperation to a deeper, more intense ardor. If Percival could spend his life buried inside the other man he would do so gladly, but he found himself rocking to meet him, wanting more. One hand stroked him, the other explored, fingertips dragging along taut skin and goosebump raised follicles.

He watched as Credence's eyes opened once more, hands bracing against Percival's chest... and he watched as those dark eyes wandered, catching sight of them in the mirror that Percival had placed there exactly for that purpose. Credence seemed fascinated for a moment, watching his hips rise and lower as he rode the other man's cock, fucking him steadily.

“You like the sight, don't you? Watching the way my cock disappears inside of you...” Percival mumbled, and Credence could respond only with a long, soft moan, hips hitching a little harder.

He stroked him harder as Credence upped the pace abruptly, returning his attention to Percival's face. His mouth hung open slightly, unrestrained noises rising up from his throat, breathy gasps and delighted moans. He lowered himself further, and Percival moved his hands to wrap around the younger man's torso, thrusting up hard into him. Cock trapped between sweat slick bodies, Credence's cries became sharper, more desperate as the tempo increased. His hips pushed down greedily, devouring each sensation as Percival found the right angle, arms holding him tight as his cock slid against his gland with each push.

“Percy! Please – harder!” Credence cried against his neck, jamming his hips down against him, slamming his ass against Percival's hips with a steady slap-slap-slap –

Hearing his name whimpered in pleasure set Percival off, moaning hard and low as he fucked him mercilessly. The telltale spasming of Credence's internal muscles dragged the orgasm from him, nerves igniting with waves of white-hot pleasure. He didn't let up his pace until he felt the liquid heat spurting between them as Credence's orgasm followed, and even then he continued to thrust, gradually slowing as he emptied deep inside the younger man. Groaning, one hand slid up Credence's back to take hold of his hair lightly, pulling him into a deep kiss that became lazier and lazier as they rode down the waves of pleasure.

“Credence... you beautiful, remarkable creature.” Percival sighed softly, stroking his back and smiling happily.

“Percy... I-I don't wanna move.” Credence stumbled just a little, body still rocking a little against him.

“Me neither.” Percival admitted.

“Let's just stay like this for a few minutes.” Credence suggested.

“Anything for you, birthday boy. Love you.” Percival's eyelids were becoming difficult to keep up, going into a sort of sated, half-awake trance.

“Love you more.” Credence laid his head against Percival's chest as he finally managed to make his hips stop moving, relaxing against the older man, body prone and warm. Percival knew if he didn't move then, he would likely fall asleep before they could clean up... instead of actually moving, though, all Percival managed to do was mumble one last sentiment before drifting off, arms wrapped around his lover.

“Impossible.”

 


End file.
